


72 Hour Girlfriend

by fromstars, perlaret



Category: Selfie (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromstars/pseuds/fromstars, https://archiveofourown.org/users/perlaret/pseuds/perlaret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s not going to get weird. Look at it this way: I’m just going as your friend with very limited benefits so you’re not alone at your family reunion," Eliza said. "A seventy-two hour girlfriend. As a favor.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Family Reunion Girlfriend

**Author's Note:**

> Because Perlaret and I looked at fandom and asked ourselves: "Lo, where is the fake dating AU where they bang?" and saw that we could write it and so here is chapter 1.

“Oh. My. _God_. You won’t even believe what I just saw! Kim from Legal and Alex from Development totally sneaking into the supply closet on the eighth floor and, say what you want about office dramz, Henry, but I totally called that like two months ago.”

Eliza breezed into Henry’s office in a whirlwind of excitement and juicy office gossip, high on the thrill of being super friggin right once again. Watch out world, Eliza Dooley was here.

“I’m starting to think that I should have totally should have taken up that offer I had to work at this psychic place over in Beverly Hills. I am like, a total natural at this love-match stuff. This is getting like, premonition-level eerie. Henry, I might have the _gift_.”

The thing was, by this point in her ramble, Henry Higgs absolutely should have interrupted with something dry and mildly scathing to say about the existence of preternatural abilities, but all she had managed to rouse from his was a lackluster and noncommittal, “Uh huh.” And the way he was glowering at his computer screen was a just tad more intense than normal.

Maybe it was the ESP talking, but she was totally picking up on some weird vibes in this room.

“Um, something the matter, Henry?” Eliza asked as she made herself comfortable in one of the chairs opposite his side of the desk.

He’d promised her that today he had time for some real lunch time, but frankly he looked more than a little preoccupied. And for as much as Eliza enjoyed spending her breaks with him, if Henry was going to mutter different advertising slogans under his breath the whole time, she figured she ought to at least be prepared.

After a moment, her question seemed to register and Henry finally tore himself away from frowning at his computer screen to frown at her instead. “What? Of course not. Why would anything be the matter?”

“Uh,” Eliza elaborated, raising a brow at him. “Because you’re totally going all Klingon in the forehead region? Seriously, didn’t anyone ever tell you scowling like that will give you wrinkles?”

Not that Henry had any wrinkles _now_. Eliza had to admit that given that he was probably ten years older than her, he still had less wrinkles than she did. One of these days, she’d have to ask him his secret because it clearly wasn’t botox or – _god forbid_ – smiling. Even more importantly, his hairline was still to die for. Henry’s bangs never fell over his eyes in that sultry swooping way, but his hair was always combed perfectly in place. She could still see comb tracks in his hair by lunch most days, allowing Eliza to admire the furrow of his brow and consider the potential for totally destroying his well-kept style by running her fingers through it.

Still, even under his frown, Henry’s eyes were totally dreamy. Call her a sucker for brooding, but Eliza found it kind of... sexy.

Her ability to gaze – or contemplate again how weird it was that she was totally into the kind of guy she’d once thought was an insufferable killjoy (details, details) – was abruptly cut off when Henry lifted a hand to rub at his forehead, pressing his thumb into his temple like he had a headache.

“Yes, unfortunately.” He sighed then, letting his hand drop so he could reach under his desk and pull out his lunch. “And alright, maybe I am a little… perturbed. I have an upcoming family reunion on the mind.”

 _“Eurgh!”_ Eliza grimaced. “The last time I was dragged to one of those, I still had to sit at the kiddie table and try and spike my grape juice when granny wasn’t looking.” Suffice to say, Eliza’s sister had received the honored ‘adult table’ spot, and she’d been stuck with somebody’s boogery cousin. Not that she’d _minded_ the free crayons and coloring books (there’d been glitter crayons and Maisy was a killer Play Doh artist), but it hadn’t exactly been the best moment with her family.

Come to think of it, Eliza couldn’t recall _any_ particularly great moments with her family.

“Still,” she said. “It can’t be as bad as that. I mean, I thought you liked your family.”

“I _do_ … Generally speaking.” Henry peeled the lid off of the takeaway container, surveying the leafy contents of the salad within with a disdainful look that probably wasn’t actually meant for those poor cucumbers, but who could tell? “It’s usually quite enjoyable, but I spoke with my mother this morning, and she let it slip that my little brother will be using this opportunity to announce his new engagement.”

That certainly put Henry’s moodiness into a new light. She’d known Henry was sensitive about his past failed relationships, and if Eliza knew anything about families, she knew from experience it was pretty much their self-appointed duty to remind you of your every little shortcoming. Someone else getting engaged before Henry was _definitely_ bound to come up. Still, before she could get to that observation, she had to ask -- “Hold up, you have a little brother? How come you never mentioned him, and I get scolded for saying my family is lost at sea?”

Henry gave her that sideways look that meant she’d totally caught him red-handed doing something he’d hoped would go unnoticed. “I did not mention him simply because he just never came up. That is several degrees removed from telling people he died in a plane crash or some unlikely natural disaster.” He cleared his throat. “We are… on speaking terms.”

“So you hate your sibling too?” Eliza said, not without a little bit of smugness lacing her voice. He could try to look innocent all he liked, but this slight omission had caused Eliza to realize two things: one, that Henry remained as prone to hypocrisy as anyone else, and two, that Eliza absolutely had to help her way this time. ‘Speaking terms’ didn’t exactly sound like the warm and fuzzy relationship Henry had tried to encourage her to undertake with her sister.

“I mean, I completely understand feeling outshone.”

“ _Who_ is feeling outshone?” Henry’s face darkened with indignation. “Please don’t project your own sibling troubles onto my relationship with my brother, Eliza. I have no reason to feel inferior to him, trust me.” He stabbed his fork into a piece of iceberg lettuce murderously. “I just don’t enjoy the standard familial inquiries into my romantic life. That’s all.”

It didn’t take a genius to see that Henry was a terrible liar, but Eliza paid no mind. She’d often found it was best to just ignore men on occasion, especially if they were dodgily trying to avoid their feelings. Guys were cute, but sometimes…

Well, in Henry’s defense, he wasn’t quite the dummy Freddy had been. Henry had only screwed it up once by being a complete idiot. Freddy had quacked it up not once, but twice -- first when she had to watch him eat with his family in the middle of her self-actualization about totally being in love with Henry Higgs, and then again when she took him back and he deluded himself into thinking that totally mature couples did things like try and talk about scoring in front of their manager, knock back shots at company mixers, or worst of all thinking their significant other would bail them out of Hooter’s when they’d gotten smashed after a football game win.

Still. Without the Freddy scale for comparison, Henry was being pretty dumb.

“I was just going to say that, in my experience, when your _darling_ sibling with whom you are on 'speaking terms' with gets engaged, married, or knocked up, everyone asks them loads of questions, and then asks you even more about why you aren’t doing the exact same thing.” Or worse, ignored you all together, and shoved you off to go play DDR with the twelve-year-olds. And even if you did soundly whup their scrawny asses at the game, it wasn’t exactly like you were going to get congratulated for it.

“But if it’s not a problem, of course, then I suppose there’s no point in my offering to help you… I mean, if you’re so worried about avoiding romantic questions…”

Henry judiciously swallowed the salad in his mouth before shaking his head. “I’m not sure if there’s anything I can actually do to avoid it, short of having a woman drop out of the sky and into my arms, and one whom I could conveniently persuade to attend this event with me at that.”

There were times when Eliza felt like dumping Henry’s salad on top of his head. Even just envisioning his baffled blinking beneath a dripping crown of vinaigrette-soaked spinach leaves was deeply satisfying. Still, if she did gave into her baser urges now, she could hardly get to the real point. Eliza bit the inside of her cheek and gave him an exasperated look.

“Henry, _I_ could go with you. Lack of parachuting skills aside, I am totes the right woman for the job. I already know you, I’m great arm candy, _and_ maybe you’d admit I was right about not being _bestest buddies_ with my older sister,” she informed him, ticking off each of her points on her fingers.

Henry seemed to freeze at that, fork hovering midway between the table and his mouth, which had gone a little slack with surprise. Which was as annoying as it was endearing, because it did nothing to relieve her of the idea that Henry’s mouth was incredibly enticing. His eyebrows drew together, a worried little crease forming in the middle of his forehead.

“There is that… You wouldn’t find that – awkward?”

She shrugged. It didn’t seem any less awkward than their everyday lunches punctuated by her regular burning desire to kiss him senseless. At least with his family around, she could excuse any behavior as acting and reign herself in.

“It sounds like a free vacation, if you ask me,” Eliza said, only a little noncommittally.

“I see…” It looked like he was actually considering it, which could only mean that the family sitch was even juicier than she’d thought. He’d set down his fork and was idly adjusting his shirt collar, his dark eyes lingering on her thoughtfully. “I can’t deny that having you along would certainly stave off the worst of the questions, never mind the inevitable needling about my age from my incredibly mature younger sibling, although they’d have a whole slew of others that we’d have to anticipate. But at the same time, I wouldn’t want to impose on you. For one, it’d be a whole weekend’s commitment.”

“Orrrr….” Eliza tried again, “It’d be a whole extended weekend of a free vacation.” This seemed to bear repeating. After all, Eliza wasn’t sure Henry even fully understood what a vacation was, given their stay at Saperstein’s Santa Barbara home. Spending a few days casually lying through her teeth while getting great food sounded like – well, it sounded like Eliza’s spring breaks in college, but with less booze.

Maybe she’d still get Mai Tais out of it. “Think of it this way, Henry,” Eliza prompted, with a pleading look, “I’ll get to dress nicely, _and_ practice my people skills. Please?”

“A vacation in which dozens of my blood relatives will think that we are romantically involved,” Henry countered, “and that we have have been for some time. They’ll expect stories, Eliza. They may in fact resort to background checks. I’m not entirely sure what the long term benefits of this arrangement would actually be, and given that it’s this coming weekend, the time we’d have to prepare is fairly limited.”

“You’re such a worrywart. We’re _already_ friends, so it’s not like I can’t talk about you. And even if they did try to google me, I deleted all my pictures of Freddy off instagram and Facebook last week after our breakup, meaning that you’re kind of the only XY showing up in my feeds for the last few months.”

Not that saying any of this made Eliza believe that Henry would suddenly understand she was actually serious about dumping Freddy, or not nearly as commitment-phobic as he liked to think, but… well, she _was_ freshly single again. And with the latest Freddy purge, Eliza had maybe gone a little Alanis Morrisette about it, and thoroughly destroyed all evidence, both digital and physical (well, short of anything felonious). Freddy was so two weeks ago.

But no one in his family had to know that.

“Seriously, I got this,” Eliza said. She didn’t want to point it out to Henry, but he was rather, well, easy to convincingly talk about. Henry liked to work a lot, eat salads, watch Game of Thrones, organize his bow ties, and look devastatingly sexy while telling her how to handle her netflix bill. Throw in a marathon of watching some kind of documentary series, and Eliza was pretty sure she’d have a believable faux dating history all set up.

“Give me your phone, and I’ll change the background to a picture of us. We’ll totes be passable!”

“That’s not necessary,” Henry said, protectively drawing his cell phone closer to him where it was laying next to his computer screen. “But I do see your point. Despite my reservations, it does seem like a ruse we could pull off with some ease...”

He stood up, pocketing his phone and edging around his desk, lifting a hand with finger raised like he did when he’d finally latched onto a good idea. Henry Higgs was finally on board. “We could do this. I’m sure I could get another seat on my flight, or if need be just move it, and it’ll be no trouble at all to get another hotel room. Would you be able to get Thursday and Friday off? We’d come back early Sunday.”

“Totes,” Eliza confirmed with a grin. She’d taken all her sick days while not actually being sick, but her vacation was still relatively untapped. And she hadn’t actually needed a day to recover from a hangover in a while. Something about befriending Henry had made her more savvy about how much alcohol was going to be just over her reasonable limit. Well, usually, anyways. She’d hoped to forget her spectacle at the office party. “And you can come over to my place tonight to help me pack the right kind of ‘meet the parents’ stuff.”

Henry checked his watch. “Right. I plan to be working a little late tonight, to get everything sorted for the days I’ll be absent, but that should be doable.” He quit pacing to make a beeline back to his desk chair. “While I’m thinking about it, let’s get the flights sorted out now. Is there anything you think you’ll need to know about my family that I haven’t told you before?”

“Well, now that I know your brother exists, I’ll remember not to be surprised when you mention you have one.” It was hard to picture what Henry’s younger brother would even look like. Eliza frowned at Henry for a moment, studying his face and trying to picture an even younger version of him -- just as nerdy, but without Henry’s cultured charm. Maybe he wore glasses or sweater vests. She wondered briefly if his brother was shorter or taller (Henry was one of the few men she knew who wasn’t sensitive when she was taller than him in heels).

All in all, she could only sort of picture a second Henry about the same height and a little more of a people-person. Probably not a leader by any means, but friendly enough to annoy Henry and probably someone who knew how to have fun without looking pained.

“I dunno Henry, they’re your family. And it’s not exactly like I really like my own, so tell me whatever you want to tell me.”

“James is my only sibling… otherwise I just have a lot of cousins. It’ll probably be easier to tell you more once you actually have faces to put to everything. They won’t expect you to know them anyway; they’ll just give me trouble for not talking about you more beforehand.” Henry frowned as he clicked around the computer, logging on to the American Airlines website – Eliza craned her neck to see what he was doing, and score! Of course he had first class seats. He caught her snooping and gave her a wry look. “You do know the only one this could possibly backfire on is me.”

“Oh poor Henry, your family might not like your fake girlfriend and they’ll nag you about it. So much worse than reminding them all how you’re forever alone.” Eliza replied, rolling her eyes. She reached across the desk for his tie and tugged it. “It won’t backfire. You _gotta_ trust me. I’ll even wear a push-up.”

He gave her a look that could only be described as a little alarmed. “What does your choice of undergarments have to do with anything?”

Sometimes, Henry was too dense for his own good. Eliza shot him a look. “I’m just saying,” she said slowly, “I’m going to be dressed up hella nice and no one’s going to say anything to my face about it. I’ll be your sexy girlfriend. I bet you like, anything your family will just be amazed I’m a real person.”

And not say, a nature documentary on beluga whales.

“You say that like I’ve never brought anyone home to meet my family before,” Henry grumbled, pointedly extracting his tie from her hand and smoothing it back under his vest. He frowned, fussing at the wrinkles that’d appeared around his tie clip. “But I suppose the whole premise of this idea is about appearances, so very well. We’ll hash out the details of your wardrobe choices when I come over tonight.”

“ _Have_ you brought anyone home before, Henry?” Not that Eliza really wanted to hear all about his past love life – she’d sort of already dug up quite a bit on the topic of his bitter exes, but this seemed like something pressing to find out before she showed up as the latest in Henry’s series of bringing home the girlfriend attempts.

“Once, when I was in grad school, so not recently,” Henry said, getting a little pinched around the corners of his mouth. “And there, your ticket is booked. Our flight leaves at 8am on Thursday morning.”

“Eight _am?”_ Eliza spluttered. “I’d have to get up before seven just to get there, and then I have to get ready…” She couldn’t help the whine that filled her voice. Didn’t Henry understand that the flight was a short one anyways, and on top of that Eliza had very rarely actually gotten up before sunrise to do anything.

“I’m sure you’ll survive somehow. I’ll even buy you Starbucks if you show up more than 30 minutes before takeoff.” He had absolutely no right to look that amused and charming at her distress, goddamn him.

“Ugh,” Eliza said in pitiful agreement.

* * *

 

Henry knocked on Eliza’s apartment door with his still recently healed hand and a feeling of dread lodged solidly in the pit of his stomach. He’d worked late just as he’d said he would, and then come straight over, but that had given him more than enough time to consider all of the various ways this was a terrible idea.

Unfortunately, that didn’t stop it from being an appealing one as well.

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and considered. He liked his family. More than that, he loved them and enjoyed their company, for the most part. But he was also incredibly competitive, and Eliza had locked in on that seed of ire that existed between him and his little brother with no effort whatsoever. It was kind of terrifying, how perceptive she was when she put her mind to it.

It was one of the many things he liked about her. And one of the many reasons he regretted rejecting her in the first place. If only he could fix it, but fearlessness was harder than it looked.

He lifted his head as her front door sprung open. Eliza leaned on the frame of her doorway, not bothering to block the packing mess inside from Henry’s line of sight. Two suitcases stamped with an LV monogram over them lay open on her couch, with a pile of clothes half piled inside and half strewn across her couch, never mind the heaps of brightly hued garments atop her coffee table and every other available surface.

“Good, you’re here.” Eliza grinned as she pulled Henry inside her apartment. “I need some help.”

“You are aware we are only going to be visiting for a couple days, not a month?” he asked, surveying the disaster. There definitely wasn’t going to be any place for him to sit, and even standing in the middle of all this seemed like asking for trouble, lest he step on something designer and risk Eliza’s ire.

“Yeah but I have to pack shoes to go with my outfits and that takes up space, okay?” She jabbed her thumb in the direction of an ottoman he’d missed before, which Henry carefully made his way towards. At least Eliza had kept one place in her entire living room clear. “Anyways, I was gonna try stuff on and have you give me some input.”

Before Henry could say anything more in regards to her (over-)packing, Eliza rolled her shoulders and peeled off the tank top she had been wearing, revealing the slim purple sports bra she’d been wearing underneath. Her skirt followed next, dropping to the floor to show off her aqua soffee shorts.

Henry felt his mouth go dry and he couldn’t help but stare for a moment before he caught himself and forcibly averted his eyes. “Are you ever going to give me any sort of warning before you do that?”

His embarrassment only made her grin, with an impish look in her eyes. “Strip? Nah. I like to watch you get all hot under your bowties,” Eliza teased. “Besides, in case you’ve failed to notice, I’m still completely dressed. This is just my sample sale outfit -- you know, when there’s no dressing room and you have to try stuff on while everybody’s watching? It makes me look like Ariel.”

“I’m not even wearing a bowtie today,” Henry pointed out, mustering his pride and dignity enough to look back at her without looking like the complete ass he felt. She wasn’t wrong though -- the colors were a pretty solid match for the Disney mermaid Eliza admired so. And, on the upside, it seemed that at least they were now able to talk about that… previous incident without things dissolving into stilted silence. It was progress.

They would need that, given how their plans were headed directly into territory that seemed rife with the opportunity for hurt feelings.

He’d thought so from the moment she’d suggested it, and he still wasn’t convinced this was a wise idea for either of them. She was newly broken off with Freddy, again, but that didn’t mean she was still interested in him – if she ever truly had been, and even if he did hope she still was. The speed with which she’d returned to her former beau’s arms after Henry’s rejection of her advances definitely belied that possibility. But on the other hand, however worrying it seemed, it could also be the fresh opportunity that he had hoped for...

“Anyway,” he continued. “Consider my input available and at your disposal.”

“Look at it positively, Henry-- at least neither of us need to _pretend_ we’ve seen each other naked before,” Eliza said cheerfully as she reached for a wrap dress still in its Banana Republic bag. “And as long as you don’t get all self-flagellation on me about that, I think we’ll be good. How about this?”

“I like the color, though the low cut may scandalize my aunts a little. Maybe with a discreet camisole?” Henry suggested. “Also, I thought that we agreed we were to never speak of that lake incident ever again.”

“I didn’t say anything about the lake,” Eliza said innocently. “You did. All I’m saying is that you have a cute butt.” She wiggled her eyebrows while reaching over for a cotton candy pink beaded camisole thrown across the back of her couch. “Like this?”

“Please refrain from saying such things in front of my relatives,” Henry groaned. He clearly had not thought this through hard enough before agreeing to this scheme; otherwise he might’ve guessed ahead of time that she would use every opportunity to torture him. “And yes, that should do nicely.”

“Why, did your relatives also fall headfirst out of a Jane Austen novel?” Eliza asked as she dumped the selections into her suitcase. She reached for a skirt and blouse, pulling them on as she asked, “I bet they’d find it cute. You have to actually act like we date, you know.”

“If by that you mean my family is aware that there are boundaries between what is appropriate to discuss in mixed environments and what qualifies as ‘T.M.I.’?” Henry asked, lifting his fingers into air quotes for emphasis. “Then yes. And I can act just fine.”

The look Eliza shot him was more than a little dubious, but Henry chose to ignore it in favor of eying the next look she’d put on.

“I’m also going to pack some dark washed jeans and cute blouses, but if you own any t-shirts, you should totally pack some extra so I can steal them and help sell this.”

“Of course I own t-shirts. You’ve seen me wear them. And the skirt is good, not a fan of the blouse.”

“You like it because it’s one of the most dowdy ones I own.” Eliza muttered, yanking the shirt off before she reached for another. “Definitely pack your shirts then. Maybe whatever merch you got on your birthday? Or something. They’ll scream casual but super-couple.”

“My Blues Travelers shirt?” Henry murmured reluctantly. He liked that shirt. A lot. Perhaps too much to share, under normal circumstances. Which, he reminded himself, these were not. “I suppose I could bring that… If you think that will help sell it. And that blouse is fine.”

For all that he spent his days marketing products to the masses, this was definitely outside his normal purview. But apparently not Eliza’s.

“Speaking of which, do you have any other suggestions to that end?”

Henry watched as Eliza paused, mid-way through tossing the approved blouse into her suitcase. He’d only caught her in _saleswoman_ mode a few times, but the change in demeanor was palpable as she eyed him up and down, calculation in her eyes. It was, he had to admit, somewhat terrifying to be sized up by Eliza Dooley of all people.

“I hate to break this to you Henry,” Eliza said in a tone that implied she very much did not hate what she was about to say at all, “But you’re gonna have to mack on me a bit. Like legit.”

Henry blinked. Henry laughed. “Very funny. No I won’t. Perhaps a kiss on the cheek from time to time will suffice, but I see no reason...”

The problem was, he could see plenty of reasons, or at least, plenty of excuses that could be recast as reasons. And that was precisely why her suggestion qualified as a Very Bad Idea, one he should definitely avoid at all costs. There were a few things that absolutely shouldn’t snowball too far while his family was present to survey the spectacle.

The dirty look she shot him only further proved his point. “Henry, remember when I told you that thing about casual touching? It’s like that, but if you never kiss me, no one is going to believe we’re into each other.” Eliza retorted, placing her hand on her hip. “We’ll go out there looking like you and Julia, all _Hey, we’re that couple who kisses like your great-aunt kisses her dog and we will never ever have sex again if we get married_. Disaster. Worse than showing up _alone_.”

Henry gave her an utterly affronted look. “That is not how I kissed Julia – that is not how I kiss women, Eliza.” He couldn’t help the traitorous thought that that was definitely not how he’d kiss Eliza either, if the opportunity arose. Which again, was exactly why he shouldn’t tempt fate before he figured out how he was going to handle things. “Believe it or not.”

Henry, however, had the sinking suspicion that there was only one way Eliza would ever believe him.

“Henry, I saw you kiss her in the hallway! You barely even touched, it was like watching an episode of that TLC show with the couples who’d never even touched each other before getting married! Except with _less_ tongue.”

“Yes, thank you,” Henry muttered, growing a little snappish. “I do believe we’ve already covered how little you think of my romantic charms before. Can we move on, please?”

Eliza raised her hands in defense. “I didn’t say it was a _you_ problem, I said it was a terrible-chemistry-with-Doctor-Smalls problem.” Henry wasn’t sure that made it all that better. “You have a smoulder to die for, but you didn’t use it. C’mon I have some wine and you can practice looking….well... less tense.”

Henry was pretty sure that wine was in no way going to help the situation, but it sounded appealing nevertheless, especially given his growing certitude that there was probably no way he was getting out of this. He’d sealed his fate the moment he’d said yes to this ploy. And secretly, he did hope it was a ploy, for something else. That would mean there was a sliver of hope for him, something that could suggest Eliza at least still wanted to be around. _No Fear_. Or at least, no fear, and mild trepidation.

If he was going to pretend to date Eliza, kiss her, and act like he was in love with her in front of his family while maintaining their current… platonic situation, maybe a little wine wouldn’t hurt.

“Wine it is,” Henry agreed, feeling his willpower finally flag. “Where is it? I’ll pour.”

“Uh, I have some white wine chilled in the fridge. Any of those bottles? I think there’s two.” Eliza said, looking somewhat surprised by Henry’s sudden agreement. She began to push her clothes to one side of the couch as Henry stood up to head into her kitchen. As he made his way to her fridge, he heard her add: “I know you, Henry. You think this is a terrible idea. But let me be right for once. I know _something_ about faking it until you make it.”

Henry opened her fridge and peered inside, mulling that over as he pushed aside several cartons of Chinese takeout and a pizza box to get to the bottle of wine he spied in the corner. He pulled it free -- a Riesling, that would do. Closing the door back up before he could start to wonder when the last time she’d cleared out her expired milk cartons, he replied, “Two things, Eliza. First of all, where is your corker?”

“Uh, in the drawer on the right side of the fridge.” Eliza replied. “Glasses in the cupboard above it.”

“Found it.” Henry dug around until he found it, then set about unstoppering the bottle. He bit his lip as he poured the wine into the glasses he’d pulled down, considering how best to deliver his second point. He scooped the wine bottle, tucking it safely into the crook of his elbow, and then picked up the goblets as well and brought it all back into the living room with him.

“Here we are,” he said, setting everything down on the space Eliza had rapidly cleared on her coffee table. “My other concern is this: if things get weird, no silent treatment this time. We deal with it like adults from the start.”

“Yeah,” Eliza scoffed dismissively as she reached for a glass. “Because calling me a liar and then accusing me of not knowing what my own feelings are, topped off with really publicly reminding me that I was def totes rejected at the office party was _supes_ mature adult handling of a sitch. Don’t worry, I think you hit all the notes last time.” she said, before taking a sip of her wine. “I’ve got it handled. We can even send snail mail afterwards, if you’re concerned. It’s just an act.”

Henry hid his cringe behind his own quickly taken drink. It’d been some week since the karaoke party, and perhaps he’d been foolish to assume as he had that just because they could discuss some aspects of what’d happened, everything between them was completely clear of hurt. Sighing, he edged around the table and the piles of clothes and dropped beside her on the couch. However well she hid it normally, she had a right to be bitter. Henry added making reparations for that to the list of things he had to do.

“Right. Sorry. I’m an ass.”

“Well only a little,” Eliza said thoughtfully. “I mean, you kinda deserved some frosty treatment, but I missed you.” She tapped the side of her wine glass for a second before scooting closer to Henry. “Look, it’s not going to get weird. Look at it this way: I’m just going as your friend with very limited benefits, so you’re not alone at your family reunion. A seventy-two hour girlfriend. As a favor.”

“Right. Just for this weekend,” Henry said, suddenly very aware of just how close Eliza had moved. She was sitting with one leg tucked beneath her, her knee now pressing into the side of his thigh, and one elbow propped casually on the back of the couch. He drained his wine. “Not weird at all.”

“Do you always look so nervous when women flirt with you?” Eliza teased, smoothing a hand over his rumpled shirt. “Relax, Henry. I’m not gonna bite you first thing.”

“I am relaxed, Eliza, and– _first thing?”_ Henry looked at her, then into his empty glass. He might need more wine.

“See, no one’s going to believe us! You can’t even take a little light banter,” Eliza said. She placed a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Don’t make it harder.”

“I’m not making things hard,” Henry muttered. “By all means, banter away.”

Sliding closer to him, Eliza turned towards Henry, and leaned in. “Nah, it’s my job to make things hard.”

“Very original,” he said, then exhaled and set aside his empty glass. She was still near when he looked back at her, eyes sparkling with mirth at his expense and the glow from the lamp behind her catching in the auburn highlights of her hair. Henry swallowed hard. The mood between them had shifted suddenly and without warning, sending his thoughts scattering like sparks. “So.”

“So,” Eliza prompted, as she moved to swing a leg over Henry’s lap. “Lesson number two is get comfortable.”

Henry’s hands came up instinctively to balance her, resting first at her hips, and then quickly shifting them up to the more neutral region that was her waist. She was warm beneath his palms and over his lap, and frankly, far too close for comfort to even qualify as an option. “That’s going to take some effort,” he managed, and mentally winced at the way his voice had gone gravelly, all without his permission.

“I can feel how tense you are in your shoulders,” Eliza replied as she locked her fingers behind his neck. Henry could feel her fingers weave through his hair, massaging at the back of his neck. He closed his eyes briefly, trying desperately to get a grip. So much for things not snowballing.

“And that has nothing to do with the fact you’re currently sitting on my lap?” Henry mused, looking at her. She looked far too smug, and the way her thumb was currently tracing the shape of his ear wasn’t helping matters. His gaze dipped to the curve of her smirk of its own volition.

"Well look at you,” Eliza said softly, leaning in. “You’re _actually_ trading your scowl for some more smoulder. I’m almost impressed.”

“Well. You got what you wanted,” he said as their noses brushed. His thumb was tracking little circles against her side and he couldn’t remember when he’d started doing that. “And I told you before, I do alright.”

“Mm, well,” Eliza murmured, massaging the back of his neck. He could feel the knots around his spine coming loose under her ministrations, warm and tingly. “Sometimes you’re also kinda clueless about women.”

Henry was staring openly at her mouth at this point, all pretext gone on that front. If Eliza was trying to make him want to kiss her, she was succeeding. “I try to avoid making generalizations about women at this point in my life. I’ve always found it to be an unnecessarily dangerous game in the past.”

“Please, Henry,” Eliza said -- in a tone that Henry couldn’t place. Was it coyness, or exasperation? She tugged at the knot of his tie, loosening it but not pulling it entirely free. “Dangerous games are your forte. Business _is_ risk.”

The thing was, neither risk nor consequences were on his mind anymore. Not with Eliza right there, in his lap and looking like that. It made it hard to be afraid anymore. He flattened his palm against the small of her back and closed the distance between them. Eliza tightened her grip on his hair, leaning into his kiss. Henry felt his mouth slacken with small surprise, and then he shivered as Eliza skated her tongue across his bottom lip. She settled her weight onto her knees, letting one hand fall to the back of his collar, slipping just under the back of his shirt. If she had any lingering resentment still held against him for his previous rejections, Henry couldn’t tell. Whether that was because Eliza was simply that good at partitioning her true feelings, or because she’d moved on, he wasn’t sure. But if those emotions were there, it didn’t prevent her from moving her hand to the front of his shirt, freeing the top button of his shirt with one hand as she deepened their kiss.

It was hard to argue with that, and far easier to go along with her earlier suggestion and just relax. Henry leaned into the back of the couch, pulling her with him. Eliza eased against him bonelessly, pressing against him from chest to hip, her shirt riding up beneath his hand. Her bare skin was warm against his palm. His fingers pressed into her hip and he nipped at her lower lip intently. Eliza made a noise against his mouth when he did and freed the next button from his shirt, her nails dragging against his collarbone.

So much for Eliza’s suggestion that she’d be the one to bite him. When she gripped at his shoulder, Henry nibbled at her lip again, taking pleasure in the slight gasp she made against his mouth. She rocked against his hips pointedly in response, causing Henry to grip more tightly at her hips.

 _Shit_.

He pulled back from the kiss with a gasp, head falling against the back of the couch with a quiet, “Oh god. That…” He cleared his throat, trying to find the words and utterly failing. Henry would be a liar if he said he hadn’t thought about kissing Eliza Dooley. But none of his imaginings had ever captured this… level of intensity, this quickly.

From where he’d laid back on her couch, Henry could make out Eliza’s somewhat guilty shrug. There was a twinkle in her heavy lidded gaze as she reached over for the jeans she’d set aside to pack on the couch beside them, pulling out a tube of strawberry chapstick as he caught his breath. “Oops,” Eliza smiled, swiping on her chapstick. “Forgot to tell you, um, I’m a little easy to work up…”

Truth be told, Henry wasn’t exactly unaffected either. He rubbed a hand over his cheek. “I suppose I’m in no position to judge.” Which… she was probably in the perfect position to tell without him saying so.

Just a favor between friends, indeed.

It certainly didn’t help when Eliza rolled towards him, pressing back chest to chest as she laughed in his ear. Henry remembered that moment, months ago, when she’d told him men liked it when you laughed at their jokes, and the seriousness with which she had informed him of that fact after refusing to laugh for him. If she was being that deliberate now, he couldn’t tell the difference at all. He took a breath, the scent of her perfume making him feel a little dizzy.

“You aren’t deterred in the slightest, are you?” he asked.

“Deterred by what?” Eliza asked, nuzzling his ear. “You being a little less buttoned up is something I can work with…”

“Who did any unbuttoning?” Henry reminded her, biting the inside of his cheek hard. The way her breath felt against his ear made him want to pull her even closer and renew his kisses – the soft curve of her neck seemed as logical a spot to start as any. He clung to the last vestiges of his self-control and managed to murmur, “You know, I thought you were supposed to be _helping_ me.” And not, as it were, driving him mad with lust.

“From where I’m sitting, this is very helpful,” Eliza purred, leaning to expose her neck to his lips. “You’re a good kisser,” she added thoughtfully, reaching for his shirt buttons.

“The benefits of age,” he told her dryly, finally giving into the compulsion to kiss up her neck to the hinge of her jaw. He lingered there a moment. “Learn well, young padawan.”

For the second time, Eliza leaned into him and giggled, this time in earnest, only stifling her laugh when she bit her lip. She relaxed her fingers against the now open collar of his shirt, and smiled. “I can’t believe you’re actually quoting Star Wars right now,” she said, though if Henry was going to worry Eliza was mocking him, her words were punctuated by a return kiss that contradicted that idea.

It startled a little bewildered laugh out of him, not least because Henry really couldn’t put together how he’d started off the day annoyed at his little brother’s entire existence and now somehow ended up here, with Eliza Dooley in his lap and kissing him like it was an everyday occurrence.

“Me neither,” he told her, wetting his lips. He could taste the strawberry from her chapstick when he did, and it sent a thrill through him that had him impulsively sweeping his hand into her hair and kissing her hard. Her hair was soft and thick around his fingers and he held her close, dragging his tongue over her lower lip like she’d done to him earlier, like he’d wanted to do for months. “Still think I can’t pull this off believably?”

“Well,” Eliza gasped, “You have this habit of interrupting–” but if she was planning to continue to chide him, it was lost. He’d more than proved he had the ability to kiss her, and moreover, do so thoroughly enough that Eliza gripped his shirt tightly, wrinkling the fabric in her fists. Gauging the space between himself and the arm of her couch carefully, Henry slowly leaned back, Eliza draped across him as he moved to make them both a little more comfortable.

The fact that Eliza didn’t even miss a beat, or hesitate when he did so was oddly reassuring, considering this was supposed to be merely practice. She arched under his hands, twisting her hips back over him as he slid a palm over her bare waist. Henry briefly wondered when her shirt had ridden up so far, but like everything else sensible he’d considered, the thought was fleeting. In one swift movement she peeled off the loose tee, smiling as she shook out her hair. Eliza Dooley was more than a distraction, she was downright demanding.

And he wanted nothing more than to match her, brushing her hair back behind her ear and sweeping his tongue across hers with the same kind of focus. She shifted again over him and Henry let his hand fall to her hip, supporting her as she slid a knee forward to ground herself, all his attention fixed on the way her body felt against his and the way she was sucking on his lower lip. He groaned unthinkingly against her mouth, caught up in the moment, and she rolled her hips into him again like she had earlier. Henry gasped against her mouth and shuddered; Eliza did it again.

So much for caution. He’d been concerned about things growing hard between them and, well, talk about well-placed fears. For all the disdain he’d shown when she revealed what music she listened to while practicing her _kegels_ , Henry would vehemently deny the fact that he was currently wondering as to the benefits of all that practicing.

Still, Eliza was entirely undaunted, or at least seemingly so. She moved away from his mouth, and for a moment Henry almost felt the urge to protest before her lips fell back against his jaw, as she began to kiss her way down to his collarbone. It was only when she rolled back his collar that Eliza paused to part her lips again, biting at the soft spot between his neck and shoulder.

Henry made a choked noise, the small of his back lifting briefly from the couch cushions and pressing up against her. Holy hell, he had not been prepared for that, and it showed, his breath coming out fast like he’d been winded.

“Shit, Eliza–” She’d bitten him hard enough that there would probably be a bruise. If she was looking to create physical evidence for their faux-relationship, that would certainly be a start.

For the first time, Eliza paused – presumably assessing her damage, and whether or not Henry was more surprised than hurt. Her expression was mesmerizing as she traced the small spot she’d bitten with the pad of her thumb gently. It wasn’t quite tender, and certainly Henry believed that Eliza kept her paramours at a distance, but she did seem to be taking the moment to catch her own breath.

“I didn’t bite you that hard,” she said, her lips quirking.

“Not the problem,” Henry replied, a little too frazzled to contemplate the wisdom of saying so so baldly. He forced himself to breathe more evenly, focusing on the simple act of brushing her hair back again from where it’d fallen around them, framing them both in a hazy red curtain, rather than the sparks that sprung from her touch on his bared shoulder. Eliza’s smirk broadened and his heart skipped amidst its pounding in a way that felt far more intimate to him than any platonic favor should entail.

“Nor do I think we’ll have any selling this charade,” he continued, watching her face carefully. But where one doubt had been allayed, a dozen more had sprung up in its place.

“Of course we won’t,” Eliza replied idly, still rubbing her thumb in circles over the bitemark. “Why else do you think I’m the top sales performer?” Her question came with the slightest of nudges, one that was made with her whole body rather than just her shoulder.

“Ugh,” Eliza said as she suddenly drooped, resting her chin on his other shoulder. “I just realized I have to behave all weekend.”

“You consider this behaving?” Henry asked dryly, nudging back in kind. It only seemed fair.

She shivered against him, with a slight pout gracing her lips. “No, I mean post – well, your rejection and then dumping Freddy, I’ve been trying to get back out there.” A note of disappointment laced her words, and she glanced upwards at his face. “Maybe I can bring my vibe, since I know how you feel about ‘being intimate’ with people you’ve just met _and_ I’m pretending to be your girlfriend.”

Henry felt the world suddenly drop squarely back into reality, though that could in part be attributed to the dropping feeling in his stomach. Of course that would be what Eliza was considering – he’d turned her down after all, and clearly he’d been right to worry that she may have moved on to different prospects.

Just as he’d feared, this didn’t mean anything. Like she’d said that morning, however intimate it might feel, it was just a favor. One with limited benefits.

“As little as I need to hear about your personal, ah, solutions, I suppose that would be a wise strategy,” he said at length. “I’ll make sure and update the hotel reservations tonight, so you’ll have your privacy when you need it.”

“Unless you’d care to help,” Eliza teased lightly, but looking as if she also felt more self-aware. “I’ve been trying to go on real dates, all of which have been terrible. Of course, I’m not demanding a return favor, or anything…anyways don’t worry about the hotel,” she said, before kissing his jaw gently, far more hesitant than she had been just minutes ago.

Henry mustered a smile on her behalf. Now seemed like the worst possible time to come off as judgmental or dismissive of however Eliza chose to conduct her romantic life, whatever his personal feelings were on the matter. “The hotel is no trouble, though I have to confess, Eliza. I think I’m at the point where I’m unable to differentiate between your teasing and when you’re being serious right now.”

“It’d only be serious if I thought you’d help,” Eliza said. “Don’t worry, we already established you’re too proper.” To emphasize her point, she rolled against him again, with a coy look.

Henry sucked in a breath, staring at a fixed point on the ceiling and trying to find that proprietary to which she referred, when he felt inclined to no such thing. Which, in all likelihood, had been her intention from the start. “There is that,” he managed.

He caught the fleeting look of disappointment she gave him from the corner of his eye before it passed, her expression returning to neutral, or as neutral as it had been previously, when she’d still been intent on kissing him. He felt the quick, sharp sting of guilt. “Mmm, see? I know you pretty well.”

“You were right though,” he told her, finding he didn’t have the heart to discourage her entirely, despite his own dispiritment. “This was a lot easier than I expected.”

“Well, I’d already thought about it,” Eliza said, raising a brow at him. “I kinda figured it’d be manageable.”

“Really?” Henry asked, feeling the pleased little smirk rise to his face before catching himself. “I mean, ah… I suppose you have.”

“What, like you didn’t know you’re totally Mr. Darcy hot?” Eliza said, rolling her eyes.

Henry considered that. He liked the sound of that, but it did raise a very important question. "Book Darcy, or is there a particular film or TV adaptation from which you draw your comparison?"

Eliza bit her lip, staving off another laugh. “You’re such a nerd. But if you must know,” she said, brushing his hair back. It’d been well-combed when he’d arrived, but Henry suspected he’d find a mess whenever he next got to a mirror. “Book Darcy. And the Kiera Knightly version. I don’t really get the whole Colin Firth thing.”

Henry’s eyes fluttered closed under her touch. He was not doing a very good job of keeping a lid on this. “Did you try and marathon that? You don’t seem like a BBC period drama kind of girl.”

“Ugh it was awful. I fell asleep like, three different times.” Given Eliza’s temperament, this seemed incredibly plausible. The series was long, relatively slow paced, and less glamourous than the later film adaption.

“Well, if you ever have insomnia, you know where to turn,” he said, smiling at her. He certainly wouldn’t mind undertaking such a feat with her, especially if – well, those were things he probably shouldn’t be thinking. Henry glanced away and sighed, her heaps of unpacked clothes catching his eye. “...I still have to pack, you know.”

The previous pout returned, this time in full force. Of course, Eliza had a good reason to be dubious about his excuse to leave; it was hard not to notice how flimsy his reasoning was with his erection caught between them. Still, despite the fleeting annoyed look she’d given him, Henry understood why she might not have been entirely willing to push back. From where he lay, it seemed rather much like _he_ was the one teasing _her_ to no real benefit.

“And feed your cat, from the looks of it,” Eliza remarked dryly as she slowly moved off of him, wedging herself between his hip and the couch back. “I guess I’ll let you pack, then.”

Henry shivered a little at the loss of the warmth of her body against his and tried to provoke himself to move. As it was, he felt like he still needed a moment, but he pushed himself up into a sitting position despite his reluctance and swung his legs to the floor. He ran a hand through his hair and realized that it indeed felt like it was standing at all ends. He must’ve looked a wreck. He certainly felt it.

“I’m eternally grateful,” he said, not without self-deprecation. As he moved, Henry felt Eliza’s eyes follow him, shamelessly staring. It was hard to tell whether she was silently teasing him for how _obviously_ he had been enjoying their ‘practice’ session, or if she was genuinely interested. Not that there seemed to be too large of a divide between Eliza’s insatiable sexual appetite and her wicked sense of humor.

“You know, Henry,” Eliza said, rolling the kinks out of her shoulders. “Your family already knows what you look like. It’s not like you need to dress to impress.”

Henry raised an eyebrow. “I’d ask for your alternative suggestion, but I think I can guess.”

In one swift movement, Eliza arched her hips and peeled off her aqua pair of Soffee shorts, revealing the lacy matching boyshorts she’d been wearing underneath. Her shoulders pressed back into the couch, and she gave Henry an all-too-pleased with herself look, biting her bottom lip as she wriggled back against the couch.

“Why ask questions you know the answer to?” she said playfully, tossing her shorts onto his lap for good measure. “I’m just saying you could stay later, if you felt so inclined to continue brainstorming…”

His eyes dropped down, taking in the creamy length of her now bared thighs before he could think better of it. Henry had a pretty good idea of where exactly that brainstorming session would end up at the rate they were going, and he still had enough reservations clamoring around in his brain that he should probably ignore his _other_ inclinations.

“I’m starting to doubt your commitment to helpfulness,” he told her, deliberately meeting her eyes.

“I’m starting to doubt your commitment to sparkle motion,” Eliza retorted flippantly, frowning at him.

Henry suppressed a grin. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“ _Donnie Darko,_ Henry,” Eliza explained, nudging him none-too-gently with her knee. “It’s a movie. But if you insist…”

Henry hummed noncommittally and then finally sighed, smoothing his hands down the front of his slacks and brushing her shorts to the floor before rolling up onto his feet. He glanced back at her, lounging as she was on the couch and giving him a look that conveyed just what she thought of his decision to leave after all. It couldn’t be helped – or at least, that was what he was going to tell himself.

“I’ll email you the flight details, and update the hotel reservations.”

“Mm,” Eliza murmured. “Kay. Sleep well, Henry,” she said coyly, pulling her sports bra up over her head as she tipped back against the suitcase on her couch.

Oh. So. She was punishing him. That was fine. That was totally, completely, one hundred percent tolerable. Or it would be, but as it turned out, when it came to Eliza Dooley, familiarity caused no lack of effect on his person.

Henry swallowed hard. “I’ll take that as my cue,” he said, far too raspy to even his own ears, and stiffly edged away from the couch.

“Night,” Eliza said, the laughter in her voice chasing Henry all the way to her front door.

**  
  
  
**


	2. Murphy's Law Hotel Room

There was only one way to describe the early morning hours during which Eliza had dragged herself out of bed – _sans_ caffeine – to dress, apply makeup, and drive to LAX. It was ass o’clock. A time before coffee finished brewing at Starbucks, after most sane party girls had already gone to bed, and when blasting Ke$ha wouldn’t be appropriate again for another eight hours at _least_. Ass o’clock, however, did not seem to be a concept Henry had ever acknowledged the existence of, but then, Eliza suspected Henry found watching the sunrise _invigorating_ rather than an sign that it was time to pull the curtains and sleep away the following ten hours.

Which was also probably why he greeted her at the gate with a warm and lively smile – and, _thank God_ , with a piping hot Venti mocha whip courtesy of the airport _Sbux_ – when she found him at their gate. Eliza flopped gracelessly into the seat he’d saved for her and squinted murderously from behind the largest pair of Olsen-twins-style sunglasses she owned. The departures screen blinked cheerfully over their heads, cheerfully reminding her that their flight was due to board at 7:40, and that it was still only 7:10 am. Or ass o’clock. _Whatever_.

“Good morning, Eliza,” Henry greeted as she snatched her mocha without a word from his hands. He looked her over with a discerning eye. “Did you sleep well?”

As tired as she was, the question threw her. Eliza bit her _Urban Decay_ stained bottom lip and raised a brow under her sunglasses. Truthfully, she normally wore them like anyone else did – only when she was incredibly hungover – but this time it was to hide the complete _lack_ of sleep she’d gotten, and the not-so-designer bags under her eyes. She could’ve told Henry the truth, of course. Who knew it would take two hours for her best vibe to recharge? Or that she’d not been able to sleep because she’d spent the night either anxious, horny, or _both at once?_ Not to mention the fact that she’d only managed to pull herself together and actually pack last minute at one in the morning.

Instead of offering any of these answers, Eliza simply leaned in a little too closely for comfort, tossing a wayward curl over her shoulder. “Do you know what time it is, Henry? It is too _friggin’_ early, that is what time it is.” She helpfully flashed him the last tweet on her phone which confirmed that it was, indeed, _ass o’clock_.

“It’s not so bad,” Henry said mildly, as if commenting on the weather, and more infuriatingly, as if he experienced none of the difficulties she’d had. “Though I am usually up around 5am, so I’m used to it.”

So she’d been right. Henry wasn’t at war with mornings. It was hardly unsurprising that he regularly got up too early. Normally Eliza would have retorted with something biting about how he really should be a farmer, or like, that person who made donuts first thing in the morning, but today called for something else entirely. She slipped off her shades and looked him up and down.

“More importantly...” Eliza began, dropping her purse beside his feet and crossing her legs so her knee brushed against his. “When’d _you_ finally get to sleep?”

The change in his demeanor was discreet but palpable, from the way his attention zeroed in on her to the slight inward lean of his frame. Eliza could read it as easily as words on a page before Henry caught himself and deliberately reeled himself back, feigning a careless shrug. “Not too late. Getting my things together was easy enough, but I don’t pack like you do.”

“You know they made a movie about always doing stuff so seriously, Henry. _The Shining?”_ She casually propped an elbow on the armrest between them. “All work and no play makes Henry a dull boy, who like, is _way_ more likely to go all psycho and kill us all.” Seriously. Imagine if Jack had just gotten down a little more often with himself! There probably wouldn’t have even been a movie to make.

Henry gave her an arch look, clearly unimpressed. But he didn’t move away, which was an improvement. “I’m glad you went into sales and not psychiatry, because frankly your diagnostic skills need a little work.”

“Hardly,” Eliza replied with a dismissive sniff “Sales _is_ psychology. And sex sells.”

She could see the way his throat moved when he swallowed hard. Ha! He was so not as unaffected as he pretended to be! “And when did we decide _that_ was what we were selling this weekend?”

“Since no one in your family is going to believe you’re going to be remaining chaste with a hottie like me on your arm, duh.” It hardly had to be said that when Eliza said sex sold, she wasn’t being literal. The whole point was to lead people into believing that they were in a serious, totally-into-it, definitely-getting-it kind of relationship. But also – and Eliza didn’t feel the need to point it out again – that they needed to look at least mildly infatuated with each other, if not madly in love. “And your little friend _totally_ agreed with me last night.”

Henry’s expression turned comically indignant. “My little–? Eliza, _please_.” He dropped his head back against the plastic chair, the picture of wounded despair. “I rescind my former statement. You’re right. It is absolutely too early for this.”

“Told you,” she said offhandedly. She leaned in again, this time to his ear, and quietly added, “I didn’t mean _little_ , little.” Just in case he was worried she had any complaints on that note. She pulled back, enjoying his baffled look, and gave him a shrug that would have been sheepish, had it came from anyone else. “Sorry,” she said, not even trying to keep the singsong note from her voice. “I kinda get flight hot, and totally can’t sleep on planes.”

“Well,” Henry said, looking at her askance, like he hadn’t quite figured out what to do with her yet. Which, if Eliza was being real, was pretty hilarious. “As long as you don’t also get flight sick again this time. That sounds like an unappealing combination.”

The suggestion caused Eliza to wrinkle her nose in disgust. “No, uh uh. I got sick last time as part of a double whammy – one, I ate a badly cooked fajita made by some unwashed white dude, which _never_ again! Like, ever. And two, I found out that literally everyone knew that I bumped uglies with a guy who was _married_ , and no one thought it might be nice to mention, like, _hey,_ that guy? Is a total cheating jerkass!” Where had been the Kindercare employee solidarity? Or at least, the faith that Eliza had some standards, ones that definitely excluded men who were sleeping around on their wives?!

“I suppose that’s a combination that would make anyone queasy,” Henry allowed, giving her a softer look. “And I can at least promise that all of the food this weekend will be both excellent and trustworthy. My family has a number of good cooks, restaurant business aside.”

It seemed promising indeed that there was bound to be good catering at some point during the family weekend. Eliza considered carefully, wondering if she should’ve asked if they would serve tons of Italian food (thanks to the Buca di Beppo they owned) or mostly Korean food. Well, either way, she’d make it work.

“Anyways, I brought a little uh, light reading,” Eliza said, pulling her latest bookstore buy out of her bag. Book club with Bryn had been a bust, but she’d picked up another book when she’d grabbed their required reading, and found it was actually...pretty captivating. While 50 Shades was definitely _not_ the kind of prose she was down for, Eliza had to admit she _seriously_ appreciated the revival it’d brought of other books in the naughty genre with classy, somberly-colored cover designs. It was great how they only barely concealed the fact the pages inside were all about having wild sex with your multi-million dollar boss on top of his mahogany desk. She maybe had a slight _thing_ , as it were. Pass on the ballgags and creepy humiliation fetishes; she’d prefer to head straight for the hot, semi-public sex with man in a well tailored suit who was just waiting for the right opportunity to let loose.

“I think I can guess the genre,” Henry said on half a sigh. “Just try and be discreet?”

As tempting as it was to detail exactly how she could go about being discreet, Eliza found herself interrupted by the intercom announcement asking for first class fliers to begin boarding. By some miracle of the flight gods, Henry actually had enough frequent flier miles to warrant both of them getting first class seats for the trip, or maybe he’d just dropped change on them. She wasn’t actually sure. Even if it was a short flight, Eliza was grateful for the opportunity to continue draining her venti in style. She slung her purse back over her shoulder and pulled her carry on behind her as she shuffled towards the gate, Henry following at her side.

“I wish I was always in first class,” she said with a wistful yawn as they bypassed the attendant checking boarding passes.

“I find it worth the extra expense,” Henry agreed, tucking his scanned ticket back into the back pocket of his briefcase. Okay, huh, so def not a rewards points flight. “There’s nothing like actually having leg room to spare on a flight of any length.”

After a bit of shuffling, Eliza stowed her luggage successfully and slipped her purse underneath the seat. She collapsed unceremoniously into her chair, lifting the armrest between them. She half-wanted to tease Henry that he should remind her to marry in his tax bracket, but another part of her thought better of it. Whatever he’d said about her feelings previously, she didn’t want to talk about other relationships. Even potential ones in the distant, far-off future.

She could only hope that they could avoid any lingering awkwardness that might come up about her feelings by diving straight into their game of pretend. After buckling her seatbelt, Eliza leaned into Henry’s side, curling up next to him quietly. Maybe after settling in for light reading, she could just block out any residual anxiety and just pretend like this was utterly normal.

“Other benefits of first class: we can do this.”

“Mm.” Henry was relievingly casual about it, if a bit wry, buckling his seatbelt before shifting his arm around her shoulders in a way that allowed her to tuck in closer against his side. It felt natural in a way she didn’t really want to dwell upon. With his free hand, he pulled the drinks menu from the seat in front of them and surveyed it. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Believe me,” Eliza said, flipping open her novel, aptly named _Carnally Corporate_ , to the third chapter, “I intend to make myself very comfortable.” And if Henry happened to casually look over her shoulder as she got back to the business of reading about C.E.O. Maximilian McCall and his extraordinarily detailed plans for romancing his new hire, Nicola Turner – including, but totally not limited to a very steamy bit of narration regarding how he was going to remove her _La Perla_ thong with his teeth.

It took until they were into the air for him to finally notice, by which point the story had dispensed with lingerie altogether.

“Good grief, what are you reading, Eliza?”

“Something I’d like to try out,” Eliza said, sighing dreamily. “It’s really good, actually. I just got to the part where Max is going to show Nicola this thing he can do...”

Henry’s mouth fell opened before he clamped his jaw shut with an audible click, clearly recognizing her bait for what it was. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

She ran a hand up his sleeve, snuggling in closer to Henry. It was so easy to rile him, but harder to tell if Henry enjoyed it, or was just putting up with her again. Eliza bit her lip uncertainly, before finally breathing in and exhaling slowly, listening as the com announced they’d leveled out at 30,000 feet.

“I could be enjoying myself _more_ ,” she said softly, grinning up at him.

Henry gave her a sideways look and offered her the drink menu with a flourish. “Have at it.”

Not that drinks wouldn’t normally be in order, if maybe for a much longer flight and for sometime later than 8:30 in the morning, but Eliza suspected Mimosas weren’t even featured on the list. And she definitely wasn’t going to get a decent brunch in the air, much less a little mile high fun. She took the drinks menu from Henry, and rolling her eyes over the vestiges of her coffee, shoved it back into the seat pocket in front of him. The only thing the flight attendants were going to serve her _this_ early in the morning was straight up OJ.

“I get it Henry,” she said with a sigh. “You’re uptight about my reading material. Maybe we can at least put all that negative energy towards this whole competition thing with your brother instead of being a killjoy when I don’t even have the ability to subtweet about your badititude?”

He deflated a little. She could feel it in the way his shoulder dropped fractionally against hers.

“Eliza, there is no one here right now with whom to _compete_. And so forgive me, but it feels a little like you are just trying to get a rise out of me – which yes, clearly you are very good at doing.” He spoke in a low voice, but it dropped to nearly a murmur when he continued, “I’m not trying to ruin your day when it’s barely begun, though.”

“Alright,” Eliza conceded, suddenly unsure whether he was trying to tell her to back off or not, and suddenly felt self-conscious. She straightened, edging back toward the window, and his arm fell from her shoulders, crooking awkwardly between them. Drawing the book towards her chest, she eyed Henry for a moment quietly. “I’m tired.”

It seemed as good as an excuse as any for why she was acting – off, maybe.

“I know.” Henry sighed too, and after a moment’s hesitation, gestured for her to come back. “That said, I don’t mind trying to make things more comfortable, Eliza. And you did say we should practice.”

Well. That was an acceptable olive branch in her book, she thought at she leaned back in, buoyed by happy relief.

“You know how I am about limited time only offers,” Eliza said softly, taking the moment to rest against his chest, closely enough that she could feel the slight squeeze of his pulse against her cheek. It was hard to tell if he was wearing cologne, but Henry was warm, and smelled even better than expected. She tried to think if this was his usual aftershave, or if this, what they were doing, was simply different – was it the first time she’d noticed, or the first time she’d been close enough to pay attention consciously?

“And,” she continued, “you can get into this whole sibling rivalry thing when we get there.”

“I will rise above it,” Henry sniffed, his arm curling more tightly around her. His palm felt warm through the thin fabric of her sleeve. “And I can’t rise above it, I _will_ win, thank you very much.”

Not that she didn’t find Henry’s aggressively competitive streak extremely attractive, but there seemed to be a small flaw in his plan. Eliza massaged his hand idly with her thumb. “It’s not really winning, is it? I mean, I’m kind of your cheat code.”

Henry’s head hit the seat behind him with a soft thump. “Well, it certainly is not losing either. Besides which, it will also help illustrate I am not doomed to a life of devastatingly boring singlehood, as James likes to insinuate constantly. I find that something of worth.”

“Wait, he actually _says_ that to you?” Eliza asked, suddenly feeling both abruptly annoyed and possessive on Henry’s behalf. It was one thing for an ex to say something of the sort, but your own sibling? Then again, Eliza’s sister had implied several times that if she didn’t ‘grow up’, she would never be just as awesomely married as Bethany herself.

“If not in so many words.” Henry shifted uncomfortably, a slight motion she might have otherwise missed if she weren’t pressed so snugly to his side. His voice seemed a bit more distant when he continued, “He’s always had… well, _considerably_ more success with wooing women than I, despite the fact he is nearly six years my junior. He’s never been reluctant to bring attention to it, either.”

There was a pang in her heart for his barely concealed disappointment. It was hard to imagine Henry’s little brother being so openly cruel, especially when they’d probably grown up together. Surely at some point before he got entrenched in his workaholism, Henry must have had some kind of meaningful relationships? He was practically built for them.

“I’m sorry,” Eliza said. “I mean, he’s wrong, so whatever. I mean okay, not everything has been a success, but there are women interested,” she insisted, though not quite willing to explicitly remind him that she herself had been among them.

Henry hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose. Even if there weren’t, at least I have a far more productive, satisfying and successful career than he does.”

“Henry,” Eliza said with a sigh, reaching back to place her hand on his cheek. “Friend. _Faux bae_. That is kind of the point he’s making.” He was clearly not getting it, or more likely, stubbornly choosing to not understand why it was so upsetting to be single. “One of these days you gotta wake up and realize your brother is a dick, but also you go home to a nightly salad. Sorry, but your awesome career? Doesn’t love you back.”

There was some delay, his jaw tensing beneath her palm, before he finally replied, “I’m aware of that fact, Eliza.”

“Which is why I’m here. I got this,” she said, feeling the tension under her fingers. Time to change tactics – which apparently could be done even when she wasn’t making a sale. Showing tact was just one of the many skills Eliza was proudly gaining under Henry’s tutelage. Eliza let her fingers fall from his cheek, dragging lightly over his skin before slipping her palm to curve around the back of his neck. “You know, if things get super desperate, you can always fake propose. Totally rain on the parade.”

That surprised a chuckle out of him, and Henry bent his head in to smother the sound in her hair. His breath on her skin made her feel warm. “That would be less rain and more blizzard, I think, given he’s using this opportunity to announce his engagement. I don’t think taking things that far would be wise, but… Well, if it comes to that I do know you’ll be very convincing.”

Weathering a family blizzard aside, Eliza smiled. “I’m not worried about me,” she elaborated slowly, playing with the cuff of his sleeve. “I’m worried about you. You have some things to work on before you’re convincing anyone.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, with a certitude she found hard to put her faith in. For as hot under the collar as she’d gotten Henry last night, he was back to playing it almost as cool and distant as always. It was hard not to be disappointed.

Maybe it was time to change the subject and retain the remnants of her dignity while she could. Sure, she could flash him, or sit in his lap to get him worked up, but what straight guy didn’t react to those things? She was starting to feel more and more like Henry was always going to be at arm’s length.

“...Anyways, maybe show me how to act in the _srs bsns_ relationships? Meeting mom and dad and not ditching because you don’t want to order salmon.” And because you realized you happened to be in love with someone else, such as the very Henry Higgs she was currently talking to.

“Aren’t those things just the very lessons our friendship was first predicated on learning?” Henry asked, running his thumb in idle circles on her upper arm. It felt thoughtless. Natural. Eliza chewed her lip. “I believe the social niceties required for meeting the parents all very much the same as what we’ve been going over for months: being attentive and polite, making smalltalk… less phone time.” He leaned into her briefly, a pointedly teasing motion.

It was true, of course. She’d asked Henry to change her, to mould in those social niceties she’d never given any thought to, all because she’d realized she had no friends. But even if she knew how to say hello and ask how someone was doing and all the little things now, something was still lacking.

“Yeah, but,” Eliza ventured, tapping her fingers on his wrist. “None of those things are gonna make me into the kind of girl guys usually want to meet their parents anyways. That last one was a fluke.” Probably designed so Freddy could keep her interested instead of ready to move on, like she’d been with all her other flings.

“Eliza. I wouldn’t have agreed to this scheme if I objected to you meeting my family. Even if we… Well, we are very good friends, and you are gregarious and sociable and, most importantly, people enjoy you. Don’t underestimate yourself.”

“Well you’re kind of desperate, and I’m the right person to turn to,” Eliza said, shrugging against his chest. It didn’t escape her that that had been the only reason Henry had been so willing to go along with her idea.

“Even so,” Henry replied, a frown audible in his tone. “Just because we may be… fabricating certain elements of our relationship, I would be happy for all of my family to know of your existence. You’re an – an important fixture in my life these days.”

“You make me sound like one of those sinks that magically turn on when you wave your hand in front of it or like, an IKEA lamp,” Eliza said grumpily. She refrained from commenting on precisely how utilitarian he made their relationship sound, which was so incredibly unsexy, it was ruining her own private fantasies. It just was so... _practical_.

_#BORING_

“Whatever,” she sighed. “I want to see where you got so... you. Where the Higgsmeister comes from.”

“There’s a terrifying prospect,” Henry mused, tilting his head to look at her. “I should make you promise not to spill my deep dark secrets to the office. I rather enjoy the interns speculating as to my robotic origins, you know.”

“Please, you’re clearly Martian,” she said. “But seriously, you totally have one of those weirdly normal families, don’t you?”

“We do tend towards functionality,” Henry agreed. “We’re a bit of an unconventional mix, at times, but I think that’s just due to the occasional culture clash.”

“Between you and them?” It wasn’t hard to end up feeling like you stuck out like a sore thumb at family gatherings when everyone else was way more interested in completely different things.

“My parents own a restaurant. I’m a bit of an outlier,” Henry said. “The rest is all intergenerational and which cousin grew up where.” Eliza closed her eyes, trying to re-picture the image of his family she’d been mentally building up. She’d seen a picture of his mother once before, back during the full 24 hours he’d been on Facebook, but other than her smiling profile picture, she knew precious little about the woman or the rest of Henry’s family. If Henry was an outlier, that made all her assumptions that much harder to picture – he _looked_ like his mother, charming grin and warm crinkles at his eyes when he meant it, but what if he didn’t act like his mother? Was the rest of his family loud and rambunctious? Was she going to meet a Higgs family of foodies and hippies, rather than more buttoned up men and sharp, businesslike women?

She supposed she’d just have to find out.

“Me too,” Eliza admitted, looking back at him. “I mean, kind of. You met my sister,” and Eliza still felt she was nothing like her.

He made a thoughtful sound. “What do your parents do, anyway? You don’t talk about them much, even after it became evident they were not lost in the Atlantic.”

Oh. Lost at sea was a much more interesting story than the truth. If only Henry could have seen that. The lie had never been one made out of malice for Henry, but if there was one thing Eliza understood, it was that just because you had a family it didn’t mean they were  interesting, or even worth mentioning. “My parents divorced after I was born. I don’t really know my bio-Dad because he moved to South Carolina when I was three, and the other ones were kind of subpar.” Her childhood had included a revolving door of men who were around for a little while, but then would eventually bow out as abruptly as they’d appeared. “My mom was a waitress, then an insurance agent. Nothing that special.”

Henry seemed to sense her discomfit and squeezed his arm tighter around her comfortingly. “Well, she’s responsible for your existence in the world, which I very much find worth remarking on.”

“More like accident,” Eliza said, rolling her eyes in the usual way she did whenever her family was brought up. It helped with the distancing. Who knew, right? “I’m pretty sure I was the result of one of those last ditch attempts to save their marriage, which _no surprise_ , didn’t exactly work out.”

“No, I imagine not,” Henry said softly. “I’m sorry if bringing it up was insensitive.”

From his position, she knew he could feel her shrug of feigned indifference, but not see the way she set her jaw to ward off any tears that could threaten her perfect eyeliner. “It’s no big deal,” Eliza said resolutely, tapping the spine of her book. “I don’t care. I can just make up new parents. Maybe Orthodontists. Respectable and boring.”

“Alright. I’ll follow your lead then.” He sounded like he earnestly did regret bringing it up, which, you know, kind of helped. She wasn’t expecting the way he turned his head to press a reassuring kiss to the crown of her head though. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Eliza’s heart flipped in her chest. She sucked in a breath, holding it for a moment until his lips left her crown. Part of her wanted to object – it just wasn’t fair that he could be so wonderful and not entirely mean it – but she kept silent. There wasn’t anything she could say without using sad emojis, or vaguetweeting her feelings. Instead, she just delivered a half-hearted, “Yeah,” unable to decide if she wanted Henry to kiss her again, or if she wanted him to ease off a bit.

She could feel him nod, and there was a pause before he said, “I feel like I should mention my brother’s profession, though.”

“Profession, Henry? Really?”

“He’s a model,” Henry stated blandly. “I think it’s where he gets the worst of his personality.”

_Model?_ Bolting upwards, Eliza snapped to look at Henry, eyes searching his to see if he was just messing with her.

“No, you’re _joking!”_ she said emphatically, but Henry wasn’t the type to joke about this. Worse, she could tell just by looking at the distinctly peeved expression on his face that he’d been trying to avoid bringing it up at work. Before she could stop herself, Eliza blurted, “Jeeze H-dog, I thought I was volunteering to be on the arm of the hotter Higgs.”

He looked at her like she’d look at someone who dared suggest she should wear a tunic top with boot cut jeans. “Attractiveness is entirely subjective.”

One look at his hurt expression, and Eliza broke out into a grin, wrinkling her nose in delight. Henry was just too easy. “Maybe so,” she started, breaking off as the captain announced over the speakers that they were preparing to arrive in San Francisco. Eliza paused, watching the flight attendant pass them by to take her seat for landing.

“Change of topic–” Eliza announced, ignoring Henry’s semi-alarmed look as she began to unbuckle her seatbelt. “We’re about to land and you’ve gotta _getchya-getchya head in the game_ ,” she sang, bobbing and weaving playfully as she shimmied beside Henry. “–We gotta _get-get-get_ our head in the game,” she continued, then slipped closer to place a hand on his cheek and playfully kiss him.

He caught his breath sharply when she did, but he was already leaning all the way back into his seat, so there was nowhere to run. Not that Henry seemed partial to running. It took him a moment, but then his hand found her shoulder and he was kissing her back, eyelashes fluttering against her cheek as his eyes closed. For a moment, Eliza was acutely aware of what she was doing, but it passed, and without thinking twice about it, she deepened the kiss. If she was totally honest, she had only half decided to kiss him to distract him from sulking over his brother. The other half was sheer excuse: she’d just wanted to do it again. In the end, it didn’t matter why she’d placed a hand over his thigh and begun to suck at his bottom lip discreetly, just that she was getting away with it and that Henry was too distracted to notice the steep tip of the plane as they flew closer to their final destination.

His palm slid over her shoulder around to the back of her neck, his thumb smoothing over the soft skin behind her ear. Henry’s kisses were intent and thorough, like every movement, even the tiniest, was deliberate – but that didn’t make it boring. Eliza shivered a little as he slid her tongue against hers. In fact, she wasn’t _bored_ at all.

Maybe Henry wasn’t bored either. Not if she had him following her lead as she adjusted back slightly, just to see if he’d follow. And especially not if he’d felt the slight tug as she looped a finger into his belt loop playfully. She just had to set the mood, remind him that for three days, they were supposed to be the type of couple who did kiss on planes, and that he was the type of person who absolutely could elicit a small, pleased sigh from her. Even if she didn’t completely believe it, if he didn’t believe it either, his family certainly had to.

Fortunately, Henry Higgs was far more open to suggestion than she would have guessed even a week ago, responding to her gentle pull with no objection at all – at least until he ran out of give from his seatbelt. He grunted in annoyance, breaking away just enough to mutter, “Damn it, the belt–”

Her laugh was totally unavoidable. Normally, Eliza might’ve reached over his lap and unbuckled it for him so they could keep kissing, but a brief glance back out the window told her that they would be hitting the ground pretty quickly. “Too bad,” she said, pushing him back into his seat lightly with her palm on his chest. “But we’re about to land.” And besides, she reasoned silently, leaving him wanting more was definitely going to get him in the right headspace. She pressed another kiss to his cheek, a small assurance that maybe if this were some other flight, she would’ve kept going.

Timing-wise, it worked out though, because it was only a moment longer before the plane touched down, the cabin jolting with the impact. It wasn’t too bad as far as landings went, but it might have been for the better that they’d stopped kissing. Chipped teeth weren’t exactly on anyone’s list of sexiest experiences.

Henry grit his teeth as the plane rattled and slowed, fussing with the collar of his shirt even though she’d done little to dishevel his outfit. “Right,” he said. “I always forget how short a flight it is from L.A.”

“Likes: _Long Rides_ , and not being interrupted,” Eliza translated cheekily, turning her phone back on as the plane slowed to a taxi. “See? I totally have this boyfriend thing down.”

“Seems like I have some catching up to do,” Henry replied dryly, following suit. His phone buzzed almost immediately after it finished loading, and he set about opening up the message he’d received a little too single-mindedly. “Ah, it seems that the welcome committee has already arrived.”

“Let’s do this,” Eliza said with a small yawn.

 

* * *

 

Amidst collecting their carry on luggage and disembarking the plane, Henry came to a simple realization: this weekend was going to be an unmitigated disaster.

He felt utterly at a loss as to how to process what was going on between him and Eliza, which, given it was only day one of the weekend, was not a sign that bode well. The previous night alone had thrown him for a complete loop, and for all that he’d confidently dismissed her probing questions that morning, it’d been bluffing at its finest. After their rendezvous on her couch, Henry had been far too worked up to sleep – first from the pure physicality of the matter, and then, once that’d been settled, from nerves.

When Eliza had first suggested this ruse, he’d agreed to it because not only did it meet his need to fend off his family’s prying in a situation where it was anything but welcome, but also because it seemed the fresh opportunity with Eliza he had been hoping for. But Henry genuinely had not expected the chemistry between them to catch light so rapidly, nor so intensely.

It was cause for concern. How on earth was he going to keep his wits about him this weekend when a great deal of delicacy was needed if she kept kissing him like that?

Henry tried not to fidget as they stepped onto the escalator that funneled new arrivals down to the baggage claim. It was usually where his relatives preferred to wait on each other, and so it was only a matter of time before they crossed paths.

His mother had been delighted when he’d told her he planned to bring a guest. Mentioning the ‘fact’ that it was a woman he’d been seeing nearly sent her into raptures, doubly so when he’d admitted it was the redheaded friend he frequently referenced. Discussing family with Eliza on the flight had reminded Henry just how strongly he wanted his to like her. That was, perhaps, the one element of this situation where he hadn’t quite worked out what the potential consequences could be.

Eliza may be his fake girlfriend _now_ , but in the future… Well, that was an adjective he hoped they might eventually dispense with. Whatever they did this weekend could have unforeseen repercussions, depending on how things turned out down the road.

But that was a problem for another time. For now, he was on the lookout for two things: luggage carousel 8 and any blood relatives. All else could wait.

For his own part, Henry could’ve easily limited himself to two pieces of luggage for carry-on, but it’d been clear that Eliza couldn't be convinced to do the same. So he’d simply put down the twenty-five dollars for a checked bag ahead of time and called it a morning. All that was left was to wait for her monogrammed suitcase to arrive as Eliza impatiently tapped out a new tweet on her phone.

“Is that one it?” Henry asked as a likely piece of luggage came up through the chute between craning his neck around to see if he could spot anyone he knew.

“Ooh!” Eliza yelped, nudging Henry with one hand and pulling him from his nervous searching. “Yeah, get it, that’s mine with all the little LV’s on it. Totally maxed my credit card when I first bought that, _–hah_ ,” she said, trailing off a bit in what might have been the slightest regret. The remorse vanished, however, when Eliza pushed Henry forwards, chanting ‘ _Grab it’_. Henry leaned forwards, snatching the handle of the suitcase before carefully lifting it off of the belt, making sure he didn’t scrape the leather. Invoking Eliza’s ire over her designer bags seemed like something best avoided. Just because he found the brand-based pricetag to be a tad ridiculous didn’t mean he didn’t understand the desire for well crafted leather luggage. If he was truly honest (and he wasn’t) Henry could only guess that his best luggage was at least as expensive as Eliza’s had been, if not more so. You got what you paid for, when it came to such things.

“Here you are,” he said, setting the wheels on the ground and lifting the handle for her. “Got everything?”

Eliza counted her bags in order, before wiggling her phone at him in affirmation. “Yeah, that’s it. I mean I left behind that fourth bag because I didn’t want you to lecture.”

“Color me impressed,” Henry said, unable to suppress his grin as well as he’d have liked. He’d wondered if only planning for one checked back would be sufficient, but fortunately she knew him as well as he knew her. And at this rate, she’d know him even better by the end of the weekend, he thought ruefully. His phone buzzed again and Henry pulled it out to check; it was another text from his mother. He felt the nervous knot already in his stomach constrict. “Ah, they’re just outside. Are you ready?”

It was woefully unfair how relaxed Eliza looked beside him. She shrugged, brushing her shoulder length hair away from her shoulders, and then cocked her head as if trying to read his mind. For a brief moment, Henry wondered if she really believed she had psychic abilities, but then he let it pass, choosing instead to ignore how she looked like she was emphatically trying to figure out what was inside his head by squinting her eyes and leaning in.

“Are _you_ ready?” she queried ominously.

“As I’ll ever be,” Henry replied, hoping that if he said it confidently enough, it might make it more true. He hefted the first of her bags, leaving Eliza with her oversized purse and the wheeled luggage, then nodded towards the nearest set of sliding glass doors. “Shall we?”

“Let’s,” replied Eliza, perching her purse on the edge of her rolling suitcase.

Henry took a final, steadying breath, gathered both his nerves and his _nerve_ , and led the way out into the brisk San Francisco air. The breeze was briny and fresh in a way that it never was in L.A. and Henry inhaled deeply, letting it fill his lungs. He turned his head, trying to pick out a familiar face in the ground, and then he stopped in his tracks and swore.

The obscenity was enough to startle Eliza as she hastily tugged on her _Juicy Couture_ hoodie beside Henry. “What?” she asked, scanning the crowd for something awry.

Henry gestured towards two figures that stood a short ways away and dropped his voice so it wouldn’t carry. “My parents.” They weren’t the problem, though. The problem was standing next to them, a good head and a half taller than either of them. “ _And_ my brother.”

He knew he was bristling with a kind of annoyance he hadn’t wanted Eliza to see, not least because she’d take every opportunity to needle him about it later. Still, he’d expected to have a bit more time before he and James crossed paths. Henry ought to have known that his sibling would jump on the chance to meet them at the airport once James heard the news that he was bringing someone.

Henry turned to Eliza, feeling a little reckless. “Hey. Remember when you said you wanted to sell this?”

“Considering I said that like, less than twenty minutes ago: yeah,” Eliza said, giving Henry a confused look as she drew her suitcase closer towards herself. “Why?”

“Let’s get started on that,” Henry said, heart pounding. He carelessly dropped his own bag to his feet and stepped in. He reached for her, sliding his hand to the small of her back, and kissed her fiercely.

Eliza wobbled off balance for a moment, caught off guard, before clinging to his shoulders and kissing him back with equal intensity. She fitted herself against him with gratifying enthusiasm, cool fingers brushing against his collar and pressing into the fabric of his light jacket. The kiss slowed, and Henry could almost taste the sleeplessness on Eliza’s lips. When it became clear that she was fighting off a yawn, Henry half smiled against her, a rush of fondness flooding him as she crinkled her nose in amusement. He began to pull away from their kiss to give her space, but Eliza nuzzled closer, sighing softly before she kissed him again, less theatrical and more of a quiet _good morning_. ‘Romantic,’ his brain supplied.

It was the sound of his mother’s voice that finally broke them apart.

“--Henry?”

It took a moment to register that his name had been spoken. For as single-mindedly as he’d started the kiss, the actual partaking of had diverted his thoughts quite thoroughly. Henry pulled back from Eliza with more than a little reluctance and turned to see his mother, father and brother lined in a row, looking at him expectantly. He glanced back at Eliza, who grinned conspiratorially and snuck in a sweet final peck on his nose before rocking back on her heels and giving him an encouraging nudge.

Time to bite the bullet, Henry thought, shifting so he could face his family, one arm still wrapped about Eliza’s waist.

“Mom, Dad. Hello.”

It was his mother who smiled first, as his father was generally more subdued. It was good to see them. James gave Henry a cool look, his black hair slicked back to showcase even the slightest raise of his brow. And while every face was familiar to him, he could only imagine what Eliza was seeing as she stood by his side. Henry had always felt he’d had his mother’s warmth, and his father’s eyes, but James had taken the best of both of them and was all around taller, broader, and more conventionally handsome, albeit sulkier and more prone to lightweight scarves thrown artfully around his neck.

But when he looked over to Eliza, he got the distinct impression she wasn’t (as he’d expected) eying his younger brother, but instead, shifting beside him with an anxious expression. Her gaze flitted between him and his parents surreptitiously.

It struck Henry that she’d looked this anxious around him only a handful of times before: once when confessing her feelings to him, and once when talking about Coryn McWatters. The expressions had meant the same thing then as it did now – she wanted desperately to be liked and accepted, and wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t be turned away where she stood.

He gave Eliza an encouraging look before stepping in to meet his mother’s hug, grinning as she pushed him back at arm’s length to look him over. “Oh, Henry, you look so good! Now, is this the lovely _friend_ I’ve heard all about?”

“This is Eliza Dooley,” Henry said, meeting his father for a handshake hello and then mustering a civil nod for his brother. He stepped back to find Eliza’s hand with his and draw her forward. “Eliza, this is my mother, Jenny, my father Michael, and my brother James.”

Eliza gave him a questioning look before she hesitated for a moment and graciously stuck out her free hand, clutching her phone in the other. “Um,” hung in the air for a brief moment before Eliza ducked her head slightly and added, “Nice to meet you. Henry’s been looking forwards to this trip.”

“And we’re so _glad_ to have you,” Jenny Higgs enthused, bypassing Eliza’s hand and pulling her straight into a hug. “Come on, we’ll get you both some brunch.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Brunch for Eliza Dooley normally meant waking up Sunday afternoon and rolling into IHOP, ready to order something greasy, something sugary, and several gallons worth of coffee. It was the most reliable hangover cure money could buy on a budget. True, Mimosas weren’t available at IHOP, but then again nicer places didn’t serve unlimited coffee beside her waffle, bacon and eggs combo, finished off with a fruit crepe for dessert. And nicer places definitely wouldn’t have allowed her to switch it up some Sundays with an order of a chocolate-chocolate chip Funny Face pancake.

But for Henry’s family, brunch was clearly a nicer affair than her lonely waffle pick-me-up.

San Fran traffic apparently wasn’t as bad as she was used to (at least not this late in the morning) but they’d still driven a decent ways to get to their restaurant of choice, a classy affair with white tablecloths and an ocean view beyond the breakers. Also, there was a lot of seafood on the menu, so that upped the swag factor at least three or four notches.

“See anything you like?” Henry asked pleasantly, leaning over to see her take on the menu. “The benedicts are always reliable in a pinch.”

“Uh, Henry,” Eliza said, dropping her voice down to a casual whisper, “I paid attention in American History class. Benedicts are anything _but_ reliable.”

He grinned widely, eyes crinkling with surprised amusement. “Yes, there have been a number of unfortunate Benedicts in the world, it’s true. I do avoid the Arnolds, but an eggy one has never let me down.”

“The salmon omelette also comes highly recommended,” Henry’s mom – _Jenny_ , Eliza thought – put in, clearly having been listening in. “Do you eat seafood?

“All kinds. I love seafood. Gotta be about that Omega-3 fatty acid life. It’s totes good for brain development and like, cardiovascular health,” Eliza said pleasantly, “But I went to this restaurant a few months ago, and weirdly _everyone_ ordered the salmon. Kinda got me past the salmon craze.” Not that she had anything against the actual fish, and she’d still wolf down buckets of sashimi when she got the chance, but metaphorically… “I’ll trust you on this one, Henry. Pick an Eggy Benedict for me?”

“The crab then? I was already planning on getting the Florentine,” Henry said, closing the menu. “If you don’t like it, we can switch.”

Henry’s father seemed intrigued. He spread his napkin over his lap and leaned in to catch her eye. “Are you a nutritionist then, Eliza?”

“I was going to eat off your plate anyways,” Eliza told Henry breezily, and she didn’t miss how James rolled his eyes as she did so. _Yikes_. Choosing to ignore the snotty behavior of Henry’s little brother for now, she turned to Henry’s father, and shook her head. “I’m one of Kindercare’s top sales reps, and I did a double major in Biochemistry and Communications. I toyed around with Childhood Development as a minor, but a lot of the classes were built for like, pre-school teachers, and not lab work. So I kinda bailed on that idea.” Sticky, _germy_ pre-schoolers and distractingly awesome glitter crayons, and the unfortunate reality that you were supposed to teach children to share? No _thank you._

She could see the slightly bemused look Henry was giving her from the corner of her eye, and, well, it wasn’t _her_ fault he’d never asked her what she’d done in college. He covered gracefully though, draping his arm over the back of the chair and acting like this wasn’t brand new information for him too. “All the luckier for us, because we might not have otherwise met.”

“Yeah, now I mostly deal with pediatric doctors instead of their lil’ patients. Usually less risk of the flu that way.” She folded her menu, setting it down as she tried not to shiver in memory of the one Human Development class she had taken – half her class had come down with some sort of horrific virus at least once during the semester because they worked with twenty or more boogery tykes on the daily. _Eugh_.

“Not much of a kid person?” James finally chimed in to ask, but there was an edge to the question that Eliza couldn’t quite place, except to notice the way Henry stiffened defensively beside her. His brother quirked an eyebrow and tapped idly at his phone as he waited for her answer, like he was only giving her half his attention and wanted her to know it. Rude.

Eliza gave James a confused look – what a strange thing to try to trip her up on. Honestly, she hoped his autocorrect was giving him shit. “I think my limit with kids is somewhere below a classroom full is all,” Eliza offered with a laugh. “I didn’t want to be a teacher, and my college’s Development track was more meant for like, early-specialized education rather than neurological development. I thought about getting an MA later, but eh.” Her previous desire to continue her studies was a rare tidbit she’d more or less dispensed with mentioning as she gained more and more e-fame. Being a hot saleswoman was one thing, but it was harder to pursue being a lab rat without distinct flashes back to her “Most Butt” years. She’d learned to retroactively love her teenage self, but some hurdles were still left to be jumped.

Maybe getting over that was the next step of her growing up process.

“ _Buuut,_ that said, I’ve been told I have killer storytime voices, and I’m getting way good at babysitting. Henry and I actually watched our coworker’s son awhile back. Turns out we’re really good at it.” And if Henry didn’t agree, well he could just lie, since he so desperately wanted to appear perfect. Eliza leaned in towards him and smiled. She kissed his cheek as showily as she dared and added, “It was really fun.”

“It was fun,” Henry confirmed. “Initial chicken nugget fiasco aside.”

“Fiasco?” Jenny asked.

“Well, it involved a technicolor wig party and a very unfortunate Eddie Murphy laugh,” Henry explained, aiming a conspiratorial look at Eliza. “But we came out the other side intact. Oh–” His phone chimed from his pocket and Eliza gave him a surprised look; even she’d muted her phone and tucked it into her purse before they’d come inside. He returned her look wryly, pulling it to silence it.

“Don’t forget dancing to _Crayon Pop_. It was great,” Eliza said effusively, catching his parents’ eyes and grinning. “He’s not nearly as much of a stickler as he pretends to be.”

“Mm,” Henry agreed, still distracted by his phone, of all things. She fought off the urge to elbow him. What gave?

Deciding to let it go for now, she looked back over towards James. “Are you super into kids?” she asked, keeping an edge of venom just under the sweetness in her voice.

If James was going to play hard on her as well as Henry, and Henry wasn’t going to go to bat, she’d just have to take it upon herself to make _Junior_ feel just as awkward as she did.

“Not in the slightest,” James replied smoothly, taking a sip of his water, his eyes flicking idly to Henry and then back to her. He looked way too smug for her tastes; no wonder Henry didn’t like him, if this was how he behaved. “If mom and dad here are ever going to get grandchildren, that’ll be Henry’s responsibility.”

“One step at a time,” Henry said, finally re-joining the conversation and smiling like he was trying to fend off an aneurism. He set his phone face-down on the table. “Ah look, here’s the waiter.”

The ordering was over and done with fairly quickly, but Eliza couldn’t shake the notion that Henry was genuinely disturbed by his brother’s comments. So this was where Henry got the unshakeable, insufferable fixation on the thing he was most successful at – work. Call her crazy, but Eliza was beginning to suspect that, whatever Henry’s deal with James was, it was somehow more personal and related to Henry’s position as future of the family.

But instead of retreading old waters, Eliza simply took Henry’s hand, rubbing the back of his palm with her thumb.This wasn’t going to be an easy weekend if he looked like he’d literally just swallowed tacks the entire time.

“So, Jenny…” Eliza tried again, this time aiming for a less controversial topic. “Did Henry tell you about the time he rode out to find me on a white stallion? I’ve been _dying_ to thank you for whatever you did that convinced him he was Prince Charming.”

That garnered a chuckle from both of his parents and Jenny smiled. “We used to read him fairy tales as a young child, as a reward for doing his homework,” his father explained.

“Dad, please,” Henry cut in, looking somewhere between sheepish and annoyed.

Jenny waved him off (justifiably so, Eliza thought) and pressed, “Hush, Henry. Tell me more about this Prince Charming business.”

“Well,” Eliza began, with a knowing smile. “It all started when we got invited to our boss, Sam Saperstein’s ranch…”

* * *

 

Henry tapped the steering wheel irritably as he waited for the light to change, the afternoon’s events cycling on repeat through his brain. It’d gone fairly well, considering, and Eliza had been marvelous with his parents – so much so that it felt like something out of a dream. If only the other company had been enjoyable as well.

He exhaled through his teeth as the light finally turned green and he hit the gas perhaps a little too enthusiastically, rabbiting through the intersection and up the steep San Francisco hill quicker than necessary, before remembering there was such a thing as a speed limit. His cell phone had been stashed in his jacket pocket and tossed into the back seat, but it burned a hole in his mind just as much as it had back at the restaurant table and through the rest of the afternoon. He set his jaw and forced himself to let off the gas a little.

James was such an asshole.

_“--Henry!”_

He snapped back to himself, looking sideways at Eliza. She was staring at him, expression incredulous. “What?”

“I called your name, like, four times,” she said, incredulous. “You’re kinda freaking me out. This isn’t the _Fast and the Furious_ , and I’m afraid we’re gonna like, _die_ on one of these awful 60 degree angles San Francisco calls a street.”

“I slowed down,” Henry said, striving for a level voice. He didn’t feel very level at the moment, which was the problem.

“I thought our first day went _well_ ,” Eliza said, a twinge of disappointment in her voice. Henry didn’t need to look over to know that she likely was pouting. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Telling her seemed like a bad idea. Not telling her, however, was probably a worse one.

Well, there was one easy place to start.

He sighed. “You’ve known my phone passcode for months, haven’t you? Check my recent texts.”

“Duh,” Eliza said, already twisting back behind her seat to grab Henry’s jacket. The fabric rustled as she dug through his pocket, and quickly unlocked his phone, narrating the numbers aloud, “ _1-7-0-1_ , the _Starship Enterprise_. You’re _such_ a nerd.” Eliza told him in a voice that sounded almost fond beneath the exasperation.

There was a pause as she checked his texts and found the last thing James had sent.

_“–What?”_ Eliza snapped, staring aghast at Henry’s phone.

_“Bet you’re not even sharing a hotel room,”_ Henry quoted, not without bitterness. “And something unfortunate referencing a ‘cold fish’ you can probably put together for yourself. I know he probably won’t even visit us at the hotel, so it’s foolish to dwell on, but...”

It was irritating. Deeply so.

“Whatever, tell the hotel we only want one bed and one room,” Eliza said with a huff. “It’s not like I don’t _not_ want to sleep with you,” she added, sounding distinctly more annoyed by the second. “Wait, um, I mean–” she broke off for a moment. “–Well anyways, it’s fine. I said I’d be your girlfriend for seventy-two hours, and that totes can include my cold feet and blanket hogging, and even in bed selfies with me in my bra.”

That final statement and the flash of memory that came with it was enough to throw off his moody train of thought entirely. “With you in– Eliza, really,” Henry sighed and made himself regroup, taking note of the hotel sign just ahead. He changed into the appropriate lane. “I’m not sure how succumbing to my brother’s needling will help matters.”

“I’m not exactly seeing how it hurts, either,” Eliza said pointedly. “Look: I get it, the um, reasons why you’d have reservations and all, but I already said it wouldn’t be weird post-this-weekend, and it won’t be.” Henry couldn’t help but notice she sounded a little less self-assured this time, but she kept going. “Look, I don’t know, I thought you were just kind of using me to avoid questions, but frankly your brother _really pisses me off_.”

“That makes two of us,” Henry said with a grimace and pulled the rental into the nearest open stall he could find. He put the car into park and looked at her, mulling it over. He did have reservations, but fewer than Eliza might expect. It was hard to imagine the worst when, well, they’d already come all the way to San Francisco, and had already done all they had the previous night. Henry knew from experience that, if need be, he could resist Eliza’s very compelling charms. The problem was simply that he didn’t want to, and had been waiting for an chance like this one ever since he’d sat in that skate park with a broken arm and swore off fear. But turning over that new leaf amidst a decade’s worth of family drama was not the ideal fresh start he’d hoped for… At the same, Henry was torqued enough by James’s antics that, all the level-headed and justified concerns aside, he just really, really wanted his brother to be wrong this time.

“So?” she prompted. “Let’s stick it to him.”

And when she put it like that...

“Oh, what the hell,” Henry said, and shut off the engine.

“Wait, _srsly?”_ Eliza spluttered, unbuckling her seatbelt. “That worked?”

“Don’t press it,” Henry warned, following suit and climbing out of the car. “If you say too much I might work past my annoyance and rediscover my sense of good judgment."

Modifying the reservations at the front desk was easy enough, though he did lose the first night’s deposit on the now-extraneous room. Henry felt he could live with that, truth be told, though perhaps that was still the bitterness carrying him through. He didn’t regain his the acute awareness of just what he was getting himself into until he slid the keycard into the door and stepped into the hotel bedroom, Eliza close behind him.

“Here we are,” Henry said, dropping their bags to the side and feeling the situation suddenly fall into place around him. He swallowed hard. Oh.

Eliza bit her lip, suddenly looking a bit more antsy. She surveyed the room, before striding over to the bed and placing her hands on the duvet cover. “Well, the sheets are pretty swank, that’s nice.” she offered, then straightened, fingers twisting together nervously.

“Um, I’m gonna go change,” she added, flitting over and unzipping her suitcase. She dug through it for a moment before retrieving a few items and an overstuffed toiletry bag. As she turned to quickly slip into the bathroom, Eliza added over her shoulder, “Promise you won’t freak out?” She closed the door before Henry could even respond.

“I’m not freaking out,” Henry replied into the empty room, even though, in the last thirty seconds, his brain had begun to catalogue all of the ways that this arrangement could possibly go wrong. So much for opting to overlook those things. He breathed out, and while she’d disappeared beyond the bathroom door, took the opportunity alone to quickly changed into his own pajamas and set about his other nightly abdulations. Perhaps it would be a good time to check his email, make sure that nothing at work required his immediate attention despite his absence.

Taking comfort in just having something familiar to do, Henry pulled his laptop from its case and set about booting up the remote access to the KinderKare servers.

“This is not a problem,” he muttered, and tried not to think about Eliza in the next room, undressing, because that was definitely neither a helpful nor a problem-free thought to linger over.

Alas, her return from the bathroom did not in any way help the situation.

“No, I mean–” Eliza said, picking up where the conversation had left off and gesturing at herself in a large sweeping motion. He looked up, attention fully drawn to the rather sheer nightgown she’d changed into, its soft emerald green glowing against her skin. “I only packed my _nice_ nightgowns and I super don’t want you to freak.” Her nice nightgowns, and not, apparently, the shorts and graphic tees she favored while doing laundry and confessing her feelings to him, or the flannel bottoms she’d worn when crashing on Henry’s couch.

Henry blinked hard. Henry gaped.

“You look–” He blinked twice more and reminded himself to breathe, and moreover, to act like a normal adult human being. Step one: not continuing to stare would probably qualify as a step in the right direction. “Wow. Um. Where are your usual pajamas?”

It occurred to him that Eliza was perhaps blushing – a stark change from her total confidence the night before.

“I thought we’d have different rooms and I needed to be on game! Like, a confidence booster, you know? I just forgot how lacy this was when we were talking in the car, and…”

“I suppose if you didn’t expect anyone to see it, and it wouldn’t have mattered,” Henry allowed, mentally shaking himself out of his stupor and shutting his laptop. Work was now officially the last thing on his mind. “Anyway, I need to brush my teeth. I’ll be back in a moment– make yourself comfortable, I suppose.”

His toiletries were close at hand and he grabbed his own bag quickly, but Henry felt his eyes drawn back to Eliza before he crossed into the bathroom. His gaze caught hers, and he lingered perhaps a moment longer than he meant to, before he escaped into the safety of the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

Henry braced himself against the sink and stared at himself in the mirror.

“Kill me now,” he muttered and allowed himself until the count of thirty to wallow. Then, steeling himself, he collected himself and his dignity and set about brushing his teeth and washing his face. Tonight, he did so with the coldest water he could use. It helped, if only a little.

When he finally felt he had a grip on himself again, he dried his hands and opened the door. Eliza was curled on the bed, duvet over her lap (which did help some) and phone in hand. She’d switched the lights while he was in the bathroom, so only the two lamps on either side of the bed were lit, filling the room with a gentle yellow glow. She looked sedate and comfortable and it made his chest ache. Henry tried to push the feeling aside.

“Anything of note happening today?” he asked, striving for normalcy as he approached the bed and began turning down the sheets on his side.

“Just reading the ongoing deets re: Taylor Swift and possible girlfriend Karlie Kloss. I kinda hope it works out. Poor _Tswift_ has had so many douchebag exes and everyone calls _her_ the crazy,” Eliza replied, the light of her phone casting a blue glow over her features as she scrolled through her feeds. She shrugged her shoulders, pulling at a pillow as she slid further under the covers. It took a moment longer for her to relinquish her phone, but she finally set it on the nightstand and glanced over at Henry.

“Hey,” she said softly. “I don’t like, snore.”

“Oh.” Henry pondered that, and what she might or might not be saying in so many words. He sat on the mattress and slid beneath the covers. “I do occasionally, but only if I’m ill, so you should be safe. And everything seems comfortable, at least.”

“Totally,” Eliza said, turning off the light on her nightstand. “And at least I’m not like, sleeping _alone_ in a creepy hotel. Not that the hotel is creepy, but traveling alone…” Her voice trailed off as she began to wrestle with the blankets. After comparing the two pillows she’d been given on her side of the bed, she shoved one aside and laid down on the other, facing Henry.

“I usually avoid staying anywhere creepy,” Henry assured her, smiling despite himself. “But you’re right, this is better than traveling alone.”

“I prefer people in bed, you know?” Eliza said, rolling her shoulders as she settled in. “Not to be the creepy one, or anything.”

“You’re not,” Henry said, leaning back onto the pillows and crossing his arms behind his head. And it was true, there was something about her tone of voice that made what she was saying seem completely different from the suggestiveness she might imbue in such a statement with any other time. She was being serious, and Henry did understand what she meant. “Not wanting to be alone is a normal feeling.”

“Well, just look at us,” Eliza said, half attempting a laugh on her own behalf. “Neither of us would really be here if we liked being alone.” It occurred to Henry that they might have still been there together had he taken her up on her original proposition – an opportunity for both of them to avoid what they both detested – being alone.

“No, I imagine we wouldn’t,” Henry said, looking at her across the pillows. Maybe it was the lighting, but she looked softer than usual, her hair curling charmingly against the sheets. “You don’t deserve to feel lonely, Eliza.”

For a moment, she paused, looking desperately like she wanted to say something. Finally, Eliza swallowed, looking away from Henry’s gaze. “You know, I don’t get it, Henry. You’re a nice guy,” she said, drawing the sheets up to her chest. “Why not...date more? Bring a real girlfriend to this?”

“Dating…” Henry chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Dating doesn’t tend to work out for me, historically. I mean, you’ve seen a snapshot already. And it’s difficult enough to find someone you’re compatible with without throwing your entire family tree into the mix.”

“Compatible with?” Eliza repeated, finally meeting his gaze again with a curious look. It occurred to Henry, not for the first time, that his last attempted relationship had been modeled on the path of least resistance. Their similarities had not been compatibilities, as much as he’d tried to make them the same thing.

“Similar priorities, shared interests – though perhaps not _too_ similar,” he mused, turning his eyes to the ceiling. It felt safer that way, or at least easier to speak freely. “Someone you trust, who is going the same direction in life as you, but who can push you when you need it. Someone you could build something with, long-term. That’s what I mean.”

_“Oh,”_ Eliza breathed quietly. “Well, I hope you find her, anyways.”

Henry closed his eyes, feeling the rush of tangled emotions sweeping through him, and didn’t know what to say. He settled on the simplest thing he could find, and hoped Eliza would be able to follow his thoughts. “Sorry,” he murmured.

If she understood his meaning, Eliza pretended she didn’t hear. While he’d already apologized once, the more personal expressions of regret and apologies seemed to be ones she’d rather not deal with tonight. He supposed that was her prerogative, given the givens. Eliza sighed softly, and turned to bury her face into her pillow. “Henry, I’m kind of tired. I woke up at ass o’clock this morning.”

He spoke past the lump in his throat. “Right. I’ll get the light.” He lifted himself up to find and flip the switch to the light on his side of the bed and, once the room was coated in darkness, settled back down, all too aware of the woman laying just an arm’s reach away.

“Better?” he asked.

“Thanks,” Eliza said. The darkness settled over them and silence filled the room uncomfortably. For a moment, all Henry could hear was his own breathing. But then, he heard the smallest catch in Eliza’s inhale, followed by a quiet shudder that dug into his chest like ice.

Impulsively, Henry reached for her, palm pressing gently against her shoulder. He could feel her trembling slightly beneath his touch.

“Eliza? Are you crying?”

“Um,” came the uncertain answer. “No.” The pillow half muffled the sound of her next breath, and Henry heard her bury her face in the pillow with a soft thump.

Henry debated the merits of turning the lamp back on or not for a solid ten seconds, and then decided that he might as well, because if Eliza was crying, he wanted to know why. Light chased the shadows from the room and he leaned over, trying to catch sight of her face. “Hey. What’s the matter?”

This time, Eliza sighed, looking up at him from her pillow as she wiped her eyes. It struck Henry as funny that she seemed annoyed. It wasn’t like she hadn’t cried in front of him before.

“It’s stupid, okay?” Eliza said firmly, setting her jaw. “It was just a dumb feel and I didn’t want to play _Candy Crush_ and have you yell at me for blinding you with my cellphone light.”

“I’m not going to yell at you,” Henry told her, feeling his own strange mix of emotions catch up with him. He didn’t care for the idea that she expected that reaction of him, especially when he could see the tears pricking stubbornly at the corners of Eliza’s eyes in spite of how hard she was trying to blink them back. He’d treated her feelings too callously in the past. Regret twisted into a knot within his stomach. Slowly, he lifted a hand to gently chase away a tear that had escaped onto her cheek with his thumb, then let it drop back to her shoulder. “Tell me.”

Her lips twisted in indecision for a moment before she finally relented. “It’s just that, apart from your brother, your family was so nice to me, and you were so nice to me and a family outing was _nice_ –” Eliza broke off. “You’re right. It _sucks_ being alone.”

“It does,” Henry agreed quietly, and thought of all the times he’d come to visit family and laid in a hotel room just like this one with nothing but his own inadequate distractions for company. Those memories seemed incredibly pathetic in comparison to the present, here with Eliza beside him. He swallowed hard. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad I’m not alone right now.”

“Yeah,” Eliza said, still looking somewhat unconvinced. “-- _well_.” For a moment Henry believed she was rightfully going to go back to sleep, and wallow in her own feelings away from him. But then the tension in Eliza’s shoulders relaxed and she nodded. “Me too.”

“One of your better ideas,” Henry teased, hoping to encourage her improving mood. She’d made him feel far less lonely in their short time on this trip, and he wanted to return the favor in whatever small way he could. He pursed his lips, considering his options, and the wisdom of each. Lately, though, Henry had begun to think that maybe he wasn’t as good as he thought he was at discerning the difference between things that were wise and things he was just afraid of.

“Come here,” he said, deciding, and beckoned her towards him.

This prompted another hesitant pause from Eliza before she scootched closer to Henry, sheets rustling as she dragged her pillow closer to him. The sleeve of Eliza’s nightie slipped down her shoulder and she stopped just shy of coming nose to nose with Henry. It was hard to guess if Eliza’s look was expectant – Henry had always been terrible with recognizing small clues, even when Eliza was anything but subtle. But either way, Henry had to imagine she didn’t entirely expect his next move.

He tugged her closer as he leaned back against his pillows, but shifted Eliza’s direction until she fit neatly into the curve of his arm, pillowed against his shoulder. Henry bit back a fond smile and tugged the errant strap back into place. “You know, Eliza… I have to admit,” he said softly, “my life has been significantly less lonely since you barged your way into it.”

Her fingers wrapped around his arm thoughtfully. This time, she laughed softly. “And I don’t eat over a trashcan anymore,” she said helpfully, relaxing against him.

“We even employ _tables_ now,” Henry laughed. “The future is certainly an exciting place.”

_“Hey,”_ Eliza laughed again, this time more genuinely. “I guess it is. I can sit and chew at the same time.”

Henry chuckled, tilting his head and catching her eye with a smile. “There’s the Eliza Dooley I know.”

Returning his smile, Eliza snuggled into Henry, wiggling to tuck her head underneath his chin as she nuzzled into his collar. Her light exhale rushed across his skin, and Henry had to struggle to keep his own breathing even. He closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

It was different with Eliza. Henry knew this with a certitude he couldn’t quite discern the source of, but he was convinced of the truth of it. He idled his fingers in small circles over her bare arm and felt himself relax, the stress of travel and the rest of the day bleeding away. She was warm against his side, just as solid and present as she’d been the night before.

Henry sighed and reached for some semblance of self-preservation.

“Shall I get the light again?”

“Definitely. I’m pretty sure I look awful and puffy,” Eliza said, pursing her lips. “Don’t confirm that if it’s true,” she warned.

“Mm,” Henry said, reaching for the lamp and trying not to jostle her too much in the process. The dark washed over them again, but this time, none of the earlier stiltedness followed. “I think you’re fishing for compliments. You already know you never look awful.”

“Why Mr. Higgs,” Eliza said, with a slight huff. “That’s nearly flattery.”

“Nearly,” he confirmed, relieved that she no longer seemed sad. “Not even close to ‘butt’.”

This incited a firm poke in his side from Eliza. “Best believe,” she said haughtily. Then, she added, “I know your brother is a model and all, but I kinda think you’re handsomer. You look like your dad who’s like, a stone cold fox for his age, but smile just like your mom.”

“I get that a lot,” Henry said, feeling unduly pleased by her compliment – and not just because of the part about his brother. “Well, only the bit about my smile. The rest, not so much. Though now I’m tempted to keep you far, far away from my father,” he teased, nudging her gently.

“Whoa, _Henry_. Please. I’m thinking like May-August, not May-December here,” Eliza retorted, yawning beside him. “And sleep. I’m so thinking sleep.”

“I can live with that,” Henry murmured with a smile, and then finally closed his eyes.

 


	3. The Benefits Package

Eliza woke up to the smell of waffles.

Then bacon.

Then the realization that Henry actually had paid attention to her at Saperstein’s villa when she’d told him the importance of waking up right.

 _Yessss_.

Eliza shot upright in bed, nearly knocking into Henry as she did so. The only thing that saved the plate of Belgian waffles, precariously balanced on Henry’s lap, was his fast reflexes, narrowly avoiding the elbow that nearly flew in his side. The look he gave her fell somewhere between amused and bemused – she couldn’t quite tell if he was going to tell her off for nearly decimating his breakfast or just assume she had lost it.

“Yes,” Henry interjected as Eliza began to open her mouth, and then continued in an entirely unexpected trajectory. “–I did order room service for the both of us, and there is also coffee, cream, and sugar for you.”

“Score,” Eliza breathed, and he laughed.

“Hold on, here we are…” He engaged in another momentary balancing act as he reached, Eliza diving to catch the slice of bacon that tried to slide off of his plate, but Henry recovered, a tray for her in hand. “For you.”

“Thanks faux bae,” Eliza said with a grin, twirling a fork between her fingers before she began to dig into her waffles. Her nightgown strap slipped down her shoulder as she did so, and she became aware again of the fact that it was pretty sheer and that, for all of that he was pretending to stare at his cantaloupe slices, Henry was definitely aware of where that strap was landing. Which posed a dilemma.

Normally, Eliza (between bites of breakfast and chugging her coffee) would simply put on her mad flirtation skills and seduce the man beside her out of as much dignity and self-restraint as possible. But everything thus far had been way outside of normal, and she didn’t really know what to do about it. She’d tried turning to Bryn or Charmonique regarding Henry matters before, but in the end had been a liiittle concerned about the soundness of their advice. Burning down the hotel room was out of the question. Pulling a Bryn was also a no-go – and Bryn and Henry didn’t see eye to eye anyways. There was always vague tweeting her followers, but given how skeevy James had been about stating his disbelief that Eliza would actually share the same room as Henry, she couldn’t quite see that going over well. They’d be figured out if she so much as suggested anything was unusual about it.

Which meant she had only one person left to talk to, and he was sitting right beside her.

“Hey Henry, can you um, not be Henry for a second? I have a question.”

Henry gave her an odd look, eyebrows furrowing. There was a touch of powdered sugar on his chin, pale against his morning stubble. God. Henry had morning stubble. That was kind of infuriatingly hot in a way Eliza really couldn’t afford to dwell on at the moment, but hell, she was going to have to anyway. “I’d be happy to hear your question,” he said, “but how exactly do I not be myself?”

“Well see, I need to ask you for some advice, but it’s a question about you, and so I can’t ask you,” Eliza elaborated, giving him an impatient look. “So if you’re not you, then I can ask you about you, do you see?”

Henry set down his fork, his confusion starting to resemble something closer to concern. “Eliza, perhaps at this point it would just be easiest to tell me what’s on your mind?”

“Okay, so: hypothetically, I’m asking for a friend,” Eliza said, licking a trail of syrup off her fork before she continued, and tried really hard not to notice the way his eyes dropped to follow the movement. “I have this friend who has a friend who is not you, but looks like you, and talks like you, and has really sexy morning stubble in a fashion alarmingly similar to you.” Hopefully Henry would follow where she was going with this, more or less. If not, it would be back to the drawing board and using her sock twitter account to ask randos for advice. Again, not ideal.

“So this friend,” Eliza pressed on. “She told this guy she had feelings for him, but he didn’t believe her, and long-story-short, now she’s pretending to be his bae, even though she told herself she’d have a little pride and dignity about getting the reject.” Which of course, had gone out the window because what was pride and dignity if it meant not spooning with the man you were in love with when you finally got the opportunity?

“–and anyways this friend would still subtly play Marvin Gaye’s _Let’s Get It On_ every time the guy walked in a room if she had a chance, and besides, how many times can one girl flash a man before he gets the picture? Because really, I understand that he – I mean this friend-of-a-friend – thinks sex should be like, totally meaningful and stuff, but also this friend is totally willing to not rehash the hashtag FEELS if it means they could maybe knock boots just as, you know, good friends, or something, and I don’t know how I – my friend – should handle this sitch.”

Finally finding a stopping point, Eliza shoved a piece of bacon into her mouth and tried not to fidget. Henry let out a breath she hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“I see,” he said slowly, staring down at his half-eaten breakfast. She could practically see the cogs spinning in his head as he pieced everything together. “Is this, hypothetically, a situation that might cause you – your friend to get a little emotional late at night?”

This question caused Eliza to bite her lip uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. “My friend was tired,” she tried, setting her plate down on the hotel bed’s comforter. “Maybe. Except maybe she thinks that was way undignified and totes embarrassing and decided she wasn’t going to let this all bother her anymore, so really, she doesn’t like thinking about that part, and would like to maybe think about the other part! Which is the opportunity for having a little fun with the promise that it’s not gonna be weird, or well, it is weird, but only because duh, they’re like totally physically into each other and she can maybe get why the first proposition didn’t work out, but like maybe this guy needs to get off his high horse and just...pursue some casual benefits with his friend?” The last bit of her run-on ended with a slight huff, and Eliza struggled to catch her breath. She pursed her lips and gave Henry a fretful look because his answer was either going to be a disaster doomed to inevitably ruin her weekend, or would only kinda ruin her weekend… but at least might balance things out with a couple perks?

“First of all,” Henry said, much more mildly than expected, “Please remember to breathe before you pass out from talking too much.”

“Oh my god.” Eliza reached for her pillow, and hoisted it by its case, hitting Henry in the shoulder with a thump. “This is _serious_ , Henry.”

“But only hypothetically?” he shot back wryly and she grit her teeth against the looming sense that everything was about to go to shit. “Anyway, I think… I think I’m fairly bad at this game, for one, but…” Henry sighed, and Eliza realized distinctly that she’d gotten him flustered. He shook his head slightly and shifted to set his plate on the bedside table. “Admittedly, I believe that it is possible that your friend’s friend may have already considered some very similar points. At the very least, he can certainly acknowledge his own past foolishness.”

“When I said hypothetically, I didn’t mean literally,” Eliza muttered defensively, a little unsure of where this was going. “You don’t seem to deal well with being blunt, so I was trying to go for something a little more subtle,” she sniffed.

So far stripping to absolutely nothing hadn’t worked, and neither had confessing she’d sort of-maybe-kind-of fallen in mad love with him. She was at her rope’s end trying to figure out what made Henry Higgs tick. She frowned at him, shoving her hair behind her ear, and gave it one last go. “So like, with all that in mind, can this guy also acknowledge that even if the other stuff previously mentioned might be awkward, it can be moved past to enjoy some horizontal tango?”

Henry rubbed his jaw as he considered her. He still seemed a little bewildered, but as frustrated as she was, it was kind of refreshing to not be beating around the bush with him anymore. “You have an interesting way of – of negotiating an increase in your benefits package, Eliza.”

Or it would be refreshing, if he stopped deflecting at every turn instead of answering her.

“That is literally the least sexy way of saying ‘let’s have sex, but as friends’ possible, you know that, right?” she asked, fighting back an exasperated sigh, but not the urge to smack him with the pillow again. That at least felt satisfying. “I don’t even know how I find you sexy when you’re so – so – so abstruse! Ugh!” With a swift movement, Eliza pushed up off the bed, abandoning her cleaned plate to place herself where she knew she would look best – in front of the window, where the morning light shone through and gauzy material of her nightie went completely sheer...

“I want a real answer, Henry. You. Me. Some kind of naked where we don’t have to hash out a friendship insurance plan and legal contract?”

Her strategy was solid. Henry’s stubborn attempts at distancing himself faded away, and he stared at her openly, eyes wandering over her body. She knew – knew – he was attracted to her, and Eliza was so sick of waiting for him to either decide to act on it or else at least fess up to what his real hang ups were that she didn’t care anymore. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, set her hands on her hips, and raised an eyebrow, waiting.

Henry exhaled shakily and said her name, “Eliza.”

And then he was slowly standing and crossing the room to stand in front of her. He stopped before her, mere inches away, looking as if he was holding himself back by willpower alone. She really wished he wouldn’t.

“You make a compelling argument,” he said thickly, “for what is probably a completely terrible idea.” It was infuriating, but way he was looking at her completely contradicted the words that were coming out of his stupid, stupid mouth, and so did his actions. Henry lifted a hand, trailing his fingertips over her collar bone, brushing back a stubborn stray curl.

“Well I got tired of your ‘good’ ideas,” Eliza said, inhaling softly as his fingers lightly skimmed her skin. “Can you be Henry-Henry again?” she asked, wondering if she’d finally gotten him to push just beyond the boundaries of whatever it was that kept him from going for what they both so obviously wanted.

“Mm,” Henry murmured, nodding slightly, dipping his hand to trace the lace-edged neckline of her nightie. He’d shifted even closer forward, close enough to touch. “I think I’ve already been doing that.”

“Good, ‘cuz girl code states I can’t make out with a friend’s man,” Eliza teased, stretching her fingers out just far enough to grab onto the cotton of his tee, and pull him just a fraction closer. She felt a little shaky with relief… and anticipation.

Henry chuckled breathlessly, adjusting to slide his hands slowly around her waist to settle low in the small of her back. She could feel him test the silky fabric of the nightie between his fingers and he dipped his head toward her so their noses brushed tantalizingly. “So we’re doing this?” he said, breath warm against her lips. He stole a small brush of a kiss, brief and promising and an answer to his own question in and of itself.

A near half-dozen retorts filled Eliza’s mind, anywhere from _duh_ , to _should I be more naked?_ But rather than voice any of them, she chose instead to ignore his stupid question and go for the most direct route. Instead of waiting for Henry to fully retreat to gauge her like some kind of thermometer, Eliza chose to go for aggressive. Her fists knotted in his shirt, and she yanked him back, meeting Henry for another kiss. She rolled her shoulders, letting the straps of her nightie slip back down her arm, this time dangerously low, and wriggled to press herself bodily into him.

He met her hungrily, and something about this kiss was different than all the ones they’d shared before. Henry’s arms tightened around her and he pressed her even more firmly against him, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Eliza realized all at once that she’d finally done it: she gotten under his skin, and _Jesus_ , it was hot.

And not a moment too soon.

While she didn’t want him to assume she was trying to escape the embrace, Eliza quickly realized that despite the sugar of both her coffee and waffles, she was beginning to feel giddy, and she needed a little more leverage in the kiss. And to breathe. Henry had said something about breathing. She took a step backwards, dragging him with her. Another step, and she could taste Henry’s urgency, feel the sudden and demanding tension building in his body. A third step, and Eliza’s back hit the wall of the hotel room, giving her the purchase necessary to arch under him easily as she brought her hand to his shoulder, sliding her fingers below his shirt collar.

He made a pleased, needy noise into her mouth that sent something hot and tingly rushing through her, and leaned into her, his weight solid and grounding. One of his palms slid downward, curling around her hip to hold her there, his fingertips pressing into her ass. God, where had _this_ Henry been back in that goddamn elevator?

“God,” Henry muttered between kisses, echoing her sentiment. He broke away after a moment, bending his head to kiss along her jaw, sloppy with urgency. He found her earlobe and nipped, making Eliza gasp. She gripped tightly at his shoulder, leaning into his touch as he nuzzled at her ear, his morning stubble rasping against her skin. Her thighs clenched.

For a moment, Eliza allowed herself to close her eyes just long enough to savor the sensation of Henry’s lips back at her neck. Who would’ve thought Henry would bite her? It was quick, and more of a surprise than anything else, but Eliza gasped something unintelligible anyways. She hitched a leg, wrapping herself around Henry’s waist as he continued kissing down to her clavicle. With her new balance, she shifted beneath him, tugging the top of her nightgown down with one hand.

Praise be, he finally seemed to be catching on. Henry shifted again, hand dropping to catch her thigh and pull her even more snugly against him, their hips rocking together with the subsequent change in angle. Henry groaned softly against her sternum and he turned his head lips brushing over the exposed swell of her breast. He kissed her there more firmly and ground against her again – a rough, urgent movement.

It totally couldn’t have been helped if she moaned. Loudly. She had to guess that Henry was – well, Henry was still just like Henry, focused and so very, very, skilled, but she couldn’t figure him for loud or even used to other people being loud. It was rewarding to see Henry reach this level of frenetic, but even more interesting to see how he would handle her fingernails digging into his shoulder as she moved back against him.

He shuddered, muffling the sound that stole from his throat against her bare skin. She could feel the vibrations of it in her own chest and Eliza bit her lip hard. Henry retaliated, nipping again at the side of her breast, the rub of his stubble burning pleasurably and his breath ghosting over her nipple. Another moment and he was where she wanted him, dragging his tongue and teeth over sensitive skin and setting her nerves afire. Eliza rolled her head back, pressing against the wall as she gasped sharply. Her mind went blank for a moment as she felt Henry’s hips rock against hers again, causing heat to flood her body. She twisted, panting Henry’s name before she reached for the hem of his shirt and yanked it up his abdomen roughly. Henry moved, long enough to let her divest him of the tee before she pulled him back to her. He radiated warmth naturally, but this time she was close enough to taste it. Eliza leaned forwards and kissed Henry’s shoulder, biting down as she trailed up to his neck and pressed herself against him.

When she hitched her thigh up again, hoping to gain more friction, Eliza nearly fell over as she felt a distinct _vibration_ against the inside of her leg.

“God,” she gasped, unabashedly grinding against him, “I sincerely hope that’s your phone. And you’re not gonna answer.”

Henry swore emphatically. “That is my phone, I don’t keep vibrators in my pocket, Eliza. And shit, I forgot. The reunion’s today.” His voice was far rougher than normal, his tone hoarse with arousal, but she so did not like the sound of where he was going with his. Eliza pulled back, leveling an accusing glare at him, daring him to screw this up _now_ , of all times. He exhaled through his teeth and returned her stare, brow creased. His fingers flexed against her thigh; he was clearly grappling with the choice here, but she didn’t want him to be grappling anything but her.

She decided to help him along with solving this very easy problem and very deliberately shimmied her hips against his once more.

“Damn it,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. “Effective, but not helpful, Eliza. Especially not when I promised we’d be there early to help set everything up, remember?”

Eliza glared at him. “You’re _joking_ ,” she groaned, knowing fully well he wasn’t. Of course Henry had offered to help set up. “Henry, I’m trying to get off here–” and his phone was still buzzing at the inside of her thigh. And while it wouldn’t have been her proudest moment, Eliza was not above considering moving an inch or two over to get the buzz going in a better spot. She refrained, but only just.

“I’m gonna do you a favor,” Eliza said with a huff as she pressed back against the wall and straightened, sliding her leg down. She hoped her legs looked more solid than they felt. “Because you can’t talk right now.” Not unless Henry wanted whoever was calling to know that he had an erection that needed attention _ASAP_. The gravel in his voice was too thick to disguise and Eliza huffed as she dug into his pajamas pocket, gingerly plucking out the offending device in question to give it a nasty look.

Henry’s brother.

Of course.

She sighed, and fended off Henry by flattening her palm against his chest. “Let me,” she said.

Henry hesitated a moment before nodding. He ducked in to press a quick kiss to her cheek that made her feel both mollified and longing for more all once. “Thank you, and sorry. I’ll jump in the shower?”

At her nod, he unenthusiastically extricated himself from her and edged stiffly toward the bathroom. The room felt significantly cooler without the heat of his body radiating against hers and Eliza shivered at the loss, just as the phone in her hand renewed its buzzing. She turned her attention to it with an annoyed hiss.

If she’d disliked James before, now he was officially Mr. Persona Non Grata and had a solid place at the tippity-top her shit list.

“Morning,” Eliza said sharply, drawing her gown back up over her chest and crossing her arm around her torso to ward off the sudden cold. “I haven’t made us run that late, have I?”

“And here I thought my big brother was just avoiding my calls,” James drawled, sounding amused. Wow, she really hated his smug, oily voice. A lot. “This has got to be a first.”

“First time for you, maybe,” Eliza said flippantly. “Not the first time I’ve answered his phone, though,” she added, crossing the room back to the bed to flop down beside the plates. That part was true, of course – Eliza had _definitely_ answered Henry’s phone before. Just, not because he was indisposed.

“Uh huh,” he said, obnoxiously skeptical. “That’s cute and all, but anyway, my parents were wondering if Henry was still planning to show up early to help with the party preparations. Or is he, ah... lagging behind schedule?”

“No, actually, we were about to get in the shower before you called,” Eliza said primly, trying not to think about how much she wanted to be in the shower right now, with Henry the way she was implying. “Anything else I should let him know, Junior?” God, there was definitely something to be said for the idea of shower sex that crossed her mind – or at the very least a shower handjob, but Eliza let the notion fade, knowing Henry was serious about getting ready for the party. And that thought only made her less tolerant of James’ snotty little attitude.

“Tell him there’s no need to overcompensate, Princess,” he replied, perhaps a touch less smugly. Good, she hope she was getting on his nerves at least as much as he was getting on hers. “And to text Mom when he expects to arrive.”

“I appreciate the concern Jimmy, but Henry has nothing to compensate for. I’ll be sure to tell him to text on our way out.”

“Nothing you’d know about, I suppose,” he said, as casually as if he were commenting on the time of day. “Thanks though. Appreciate it.”

And before she could get another word in edgewise, he was gone.

* * *

 

They were not talking about what had happened in the hotel room.

Henry was grateful for this, because it was difficult enough as it was to shake Eliza from his system as it was. Suffice to say, an ice cold shower had not been sufficient to handle the problem she’d raised on its own. Not that he would ever admit that aloud, especially not to her. She would have too much of a field day with that information.

He sighed and rubbed at his cheek as he closed his car door, looking up the driveway at his grandparents’ cheerfully painted yellow home. It was hard to feel prepared to face his relatives when he was still quite busy panicking. It had been all very well and easy to act on impulse in the moment and respond to Eliza’s very persuasive tactics, but in retrospect, he was finding plenty of things to worry about.

Why the hell was he agreeing to a friends-with-benefits deal when he was trying to work up the nerve to actually tell Eliza how he felt about her? And why the hell was it so difficult to articulate the same feelings she had simply just blurted out to him that day in his office?

“Oh. My. _God_ –” Eliza squeaked, interrupting Henry’s anxious thoughts. He turned slightly, watching as she stopped beside him and stared up at the house. In between handling his brother’s call, and his shower, Eliza had donned a pair of dark washed jeans and an emerald green blouse that exposed the very same stretch of skin at her collar he’d been so intent on kissing that morning.

It took Henry a moment to realize Eliza’s interjection demanded some sort of response. Before he managed to find something to fill the silence, she turned to look at him incredulously. “Henry. Henry Higgs. _You didn’t tell me your grandparents own a mansion_.”

Oh. _That_.

“Oh,” he said aloud, averting his gaze to the the classically San-Franciscan style three storied house. “With everything else going on, it slipped my mind that that might be something to mention. I suppose it is rather roomy.”

“Roomy?” Eliza said. “Henry, roomy is a pair of cargo shorts, or like, our first class tickets on the plane! This is not roomy, this is a _mansion!”_

Henry gave a rueful shrug.  “This sounds horrifically snobby, but they’ve had this place for almost as long as I can remember, so it doesn’t really stand out in my mind as anything extraordinary.” His family’s financial situation was not something he’d given much consideration in a while, especially since striking out into his own interests and pursuing a career in marketing. Still, he should have thought to give Eliza a heads up… and it wasn’t the first time that guilty thought had occurred to him. But one thing at a time. “They have a lot of Bay Area real estate, in any case. Especially in San Francisco. Anyway, I am certain my grandparents will be happy to tell you everything – are you ready to meet everyone?”

“Oh my god,” Eliza repeated by way of answering. “Yeah, um. I think so. Do I look ready?” she fidgeted, bouncing on her heels. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me your family is rich. I should’ve worn like, pearls or something.”

With a flustered flick of her hair, she looked back at the front door. “Last time I did this meet-the-fam thing I totally screwed it up.”

“We’re not on the East Coast. Pearls are not required,” Henry reassured her, her sudden anxiety sending his own further from his mind. She was doing him a favor, he reminded himself, and the most important bits of that were about to start happening now. His hand fell too-naturally to the small of her back as they began to inch toward the front steps; once done, it made no sense to take it back. “Just do what you did yesterday. My parents thought you were perfectly charming, from what I could tell. I don’t think you’ll have any problems impressing everyone.”

“On a scale of one to ten–?” Eliza asked, before shaking her head. “Nevermind. Grade me later,” she waved her hand and then twisted slightly, kissing him on the cheek anxiously as he rang the doorbell. It was a surprise; a nice one.

“I’m good,” she said, exhaling. “This is good. I can be um, charming. Totally.”

“Remember, you’re the one who has been telling me that we can sell this for the past few days. Where did all that confidence go?” Henry said, striving for levity. There were muffled noises from inside the home – Henry would bet anything there was an argument going on that moment regarding whose turn it was to answer the door. Well, they would figure it out momentarily. He briefly drew Eliza closer, giving her waist a comforting squeeze. She let out a long, quiet breath and gave him a tentative smile.

When the door finally opened, Henry was met with the calm and unblinking gaze of his father holding the knob as his grandmother bustled past, drawing him into a firm embrace. “Henry, my dear, I’ve _missed_ you.”

“ _Halmoni_ ,” Henry replied, returning the hug before edging back to look at his grandmother at arm’s length. She looked good, her shoulder length, steely gray hair in its customary curls, and dressed as pristinely as ever.  “I was hoping to introduce you to my girlfriend.”

He gestured Eliza forward, trying to ignore the knot of nerves that sprung to his throat. He was more invested than he’d ever let on with her in how his family would take to her – his parents had been only the first hurdle. “Grandma, this is Eliza Dooley. Eliza, this is my grandmother, Jiha Higgs.”

Eliza stepped towards them, smiling. “Hello,” she said, looking to Henry. “Your home is um, really, _really_ amazing. Henry didn’t warn me at all.”

“Thank you, Eliza. It’s nice isn’t it? Built in the twenties,” Jiha said, clasping Eliza’s hand between hers in a warm greeting. “Come inside, let’s get all the introductions started. Don’t worry about keeping everyone straight. Henry – you really should have brought her a day or two earlier! Now she’s got to try and keep up with everyone all at once.”

“Sorry. We had work, so things were a bit tightly scheduled,” Henry said, following his grandmother inside and sparing Eliza an encouraging look.

His grandma made a scornfully dismissive noise. “You didn’t even tell us you were planning to invite her until the day before last! Did he procrastinate on inviting you, dear? He’s always been so fussy with women.”

At that, Eliza stifled a giggle. “I think he was going for _whirlwind_ , rather than procrastination,” she offered. “Plus there was work to juggle, and I had a presentation before we left.”

“Mm,” Jiha murmured. “Jenny did say you do quite a bit for Kindercare. Can’t fault a woman for keeping up with her career. I certainly kept up with mine, when I was your age,” she said, leading the way into the house. Henry’s father followed them both as they stepped into the foyer and breezed down the halls into the warm and well lit kitchens.

“But Eliza dear,” she added, “Don’t let Henry pussyfoot around and call it romancing you. He can start by taking some initiative and helping you meet the rest of the ladies before he goes out to help with the barbecue.”

Henry groaned and Eliza failed to smother her snickering this time. He frowned at her, hoping it would be sufficient to communicate the depth of her betrayal. Still, at the same time, he felt unduly pleased that his relatives were taking such pains to make her feel welcome. It– well, mattered. “Grandma, please. You make it sound like I’m incapable of handling my own relationships. Don’t you get everyone started.”

“I’ll start whatever I please,” she replied with a contemptuous wave as they entered the kitchen. She was promptly distracted by a pair of small children scrambling out of the room, shrieking with laughter. “You two, walking in the house!” she snapped, starting after them.

The kitchen was a warm, well lit space, with terracotta tiles and warm reddish marble counter tops. Windows lined one side of the room, facing the back yard and the city beyond, rolling away down the hill. It was also a full space, and Henry could count at least half a dozen of his female relatives in the room.

“Here we go,” Henry murmured to Eliza, a final warning. His father, overhearing, chuckled softly.

“Sounds like you kind of deserve it,” Eliza replied, biting her bottom lip as she smiled and elbowed him playfully. From behind her Henry’s father nodded along.

“She’s not wrong, son. But good luck. I’ll be out in the backyard when you’re done,” he said, turning to make his way to the back door.

Eliza hedged a look towards Henry. “They do know I can’t cook, right?” she asked, before Henry’s mother materialized out of the crowd of women preparing food.

“Eliza, dear!” Jenny called, “Come on over, I’ve been telling everyone about you.”

“Hello, Mom,“ Henry said, then looked to Eliza and dropped his voice, not quite ready to relinquish her into the hands of his relations. “I’m fairly certain that this is less about cooking and more about gossip. Please keep in mind that, whatever you tell them here, the entire extended family will also hear about it. And I do mean the entire family, not just those living in the continental United States.” If he sounded like he was begging, then so be it. Maybe he was.

It probably wasn’t among his wisest confidences. Eliza’s brows raised, and she rounded her lips as she breathed out an _“Oh?”_ – which translated rather rapidly in Henry’s own mind to a cause for his own uh-oh.

“This is totes gonna be fun,” Eliza said brightly. “I love gossip, hashtag got the goss hashtag like a boss.” She turned on her heel, a sudden spring in her step. “Don’t worry Grandma Higgs, Henry doesn’t have to do all the introductions.”

Henry felt the memory of that morning’s events wash over him with an ominous sense of dread and the lingering suspicion that, this? This was to be his punishment.

He looked to his mother, who was doing a terrible, terrible job of hiding her delight. “Take care of her, please?”

Jenny patted him on the shoulder. “You heard Grandma Jiha. Out you go.”

Henry bit back a groan but did as he was told, following his father’s path toward the back door. Hand on the knob, he glanced back, catching a last glance of Eliza laughing as she shook hands with his Aunt Lisa, a little bashful but otherwise at ease – and felt the last fragments of dread change into the first stirrings of hope.


	4. Corporate Handover

Henry had said not to spill any juicy secrets, but Henry had also brought her to his family’s home to keep him from looking like a total spinster-y shut in. So, Eliza kindly did him the favor of ignoring his request. She made herself useful by passing aunties different bowls of ingredients as they bustled about the kitchen and set about sharing the best stories at her disposal with the women of Henry’s family. 

“You totally wouldn’t believe it,” Eliza said, not bothering to downplay her giddiness as she leaned in to hand over the salt and pepper shakers to Aunt Wendy. “I told him to loosen up and have some fun, and you know what he does? He goes streaking!” 

“Henry? Our Henry? Went streaking in front of his boss?” That came from his cousin Alice with an air of distinct disbelief -- Eliza got the distinct impression that she’d be calling bullshit in a more explicit fashion if they weren’t surrounded the older generation right now. Not that they seemed like a particularly scandalize-able bunch. As far as she could tell, they were thriving on this gossip. “I just can’t see it.”

“He did!” she insisted, her grin widening. “I totally saw that birthmark on his left buttcheek -- and so did Saperstein’s whole family!” With a flourish, Eliza leaned onto the marble countertops and gave the group of women around her a conspiratorial look. Her voice dropped to a stage whisper. “It’s a cute butt though! I don’t blame him.”

Grandma Jiha snorted loudly from over the sink amidst the snickering. “You can only say that because you’ve never had to wipe it. All of the benefits, none of the work.”

Eliza scrunched her nose. “And I appreciate all the work you did,” she said. “Cuz trust, his butt has definitely gotten much nicer since then.” She tapped her manicured nails against the counter before looking over to Henry’s mother and grandmother. “Wait. Does he have baby pictures? I’ve been dying to see some, and Henry won’t show me--” 

“For very good reason,” interjected the very last voice Eliza was hoping to hear at the moment. She winced as she turned, knowing she’d been caught red-handed, swinging around on her stool just as Henry nudged the door to the backyard shut behind him with his heel. He was preoccupied first with setting down the enormous platter in his arms onto the nearest available counter space, which took some maneuvering, because that was in very short supply. “Just what have you been telling them?”

“Nothing muuuch,” Eliza drawled, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. She shot him a look that she hoped landed somewhere in the realm of apologetic, but she was pretty sure it was coming off more guilty than anything.

His cousin Alice leaned over and gave Henry a discerning look. “Look, I don’t want to call your girlfriend a liar, but Henry, skinny dipping in a protected lake?” she huffed, and another cousin snickered over by the oven. “Did you really?”

“--Maybe a little about our trip to Saperstein’s home?” Eliza offered in a last ditch effort for innocence. She batted her eyelashes convincingly.

The look he gave her was one of sheer betrayal. “I can’t believe you. That’s not how it happened.”

“Yeah, Henry, it kinda is,” Eliza retorted, switching tactics. If she couldn’t play him that way, the next option was simple audacity. “I told you to loosen up and have some fun and you decided to strip naked and jump into a lake full of leeches.” Admittedly, Henry probably wouldn’t have jumped in if he’d known there were leeches, but details. She moved over towards him, and lightly brushed against his forearm. 

“I liked that about you,” she said, leaning into him. “And your cute birthmark.” 

“I don’t know,” another of his cousins interjected -- Marie, if Eliza remembered correctly -- “I still think it looks like a deformed rabbit.”

“Good God,” Henry groaned. “That’s enough. All of you are terrible. Eliza, maybe you’d like a tour of the house?” His tone of voice made clear that it wasn’t an invitation that brooked argument. Henry was clearly in evacuation mode.

“Alright Mr. Bun Bun,” Eliza replied cheerfully, slipping her arm through Henry’s. “Show me around!” 

Henry grimaced at the round of titters that comment brought up in its wake. “Please don’t ever call me that again.” That didn’t stop him from immediately steering her away from his relatives and into the relative quiet of the hallway. “I should have known you would be capable of such betrayal.”

“They were saying they were worried you were a stick in the mud,” Eliza defended as they walked arm and arm down an empty hall. “And you know that, secretly, you’re not that grumpy, Henry.” It was funny -- although she didn’t mind pointing out when he was being a bit of a grouch, she felt herself feeling a little defensive when other people agreed. 

But fewer people were around now. It occurred to her that that might be… interesting.

“Hey,” she said slowly, glancing curiously down the empty hallway. “Are you gonna show me someplace more private?” 

Henry gave her a sideways look in the midst of peering into an open doorway. “I was going to say, here’s the TV room, but it looks like it’s currently occupied by the under-twelve crowd. There’s not really any such thing as privacy in this house.”

“Your mom said you spent summers here,” Eliza said thoughtfully. “Don’t tell me you slept on the couch?” It seemed highly unlikely that in a house so big, Henry would’ve been relegated to futon naps. Given that she’d already seen no less than two different couches and a loveseat, Eliza figured there must’ve been actual bedrooms around somewhere. “...Or are you just trying to hide your embarrassing childhood posters from me?” 

“You’ve already clued in on my Star Trek fixation, so there’s no helping that,” Henry allowed with a rueful sigh, before explaining. “I typically stayed up in the converted attic, and if I was lucky I didn’t have to share it too much with my brother or cousins, but I have no idea what my grandparents have done with it over the years, or who’s staying there right now. It got shared amongst all of us through the years, depending on the time of year.”

“Show it to me,” Eliza said, nudging Henry gently. “I wanna seeeeee, and also you owe it to me, cuz of this morning.” The terrible, unspeakable, interruption of what should have been a great wakeup call. 

Henry blinked and gave her a sharp look; Eliza had to fight to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Was he really just now catching on? Her hints had been roughly the size of anvils, goddamn. He glanced both ways down the hall, as if he didn’t already know perfectly well they were, for the moment, alone. “Just what are you planning, exactly?”

“I’m planning on seeing my bae’s bedroom, duh,” she said, anxiously fidgeting for a moment. How did he manage to just do that? Make her feel like she ought to second guess her first instincts all the time? For a moment she tried to decide whether or not she should just casually play it off, or else go for the kind of blunt that she knew could make Henry dig in his heels even harder. 

The longer she’d been around Henry though, the more she had begun to realize there was a third option. Completely and totally overriding his concerns with something else more... concerning.

“Well if you don’t want to show me, I guess I’ll just go find it myself. I mean, I just have to keep opening doors and going up, right?” 

He caught her by the wrist before she could slip away, wearing the face of someone who knew he’d been beat. “Come on. It was part of the normal tour anyway. You’ll like the view of the city.”

Eliza gasped, “You have a view up there, and it’s not a totally scary attic?” It was perfectly unfair. For a brief moment, Eliza wanted to ask if he had skylights in his room, if he could see either of the bridges, and a dozen other things, but instead fought back the impulse and waited for Henry to take the lead. She’d just have to find out for herself, once she got there. 

“Don’t look so guilty Henry,” she said instead. “People will think you’re skulking around for a reason.” 

“Like I said, it was converted, so there are windows,” Henry said dryly, answering her first question. “And who’s skulking? I have nothing to hide. Especially in a house where my ill-advised nudity is already a subject of open conversation.”

Eliza slipped her hand into his, and squeezed. “Your cute butt was the focal point of that conversation, honestly.” She paused, before adding, “Which reminds me: if that had been some weirdo tactic to get me to check you out, it totes worked. Do you like, do pilates or something? I wish my ass looked like that.” 

“You already know that I run,” Henry replied as they took to the stairs, though he sounded somewhat mollified. At the very least, his next words weren’t entirely lacking in good humor. “I was genuinely trying to take your advice, for the record. Too bad it backfired so epically.”

“Nah, Saperstein still talks about it with this weird hint of admiration and later told me he totally did the same thing later that night. Which I thankfully did not witness.” She’d seen plenty enough portraits of her boss on the walls of his villa, thank you. Given the way he shuddered, she had to guess Henry agreed on that point.

Eliza smiled to herself. “I don’t know. I like crazy lake-jumping Henry, but I think I prefer you without leeches.” 

“I definitely prefer life in general without leeches,” he said emphatically as they reached the staircase’s final landing. “Come on, the attic entrance is through this hall.” He led her to a door that looked like it might conceal nothing more than a closet, but when he opened it, there was another set of narrow stairs, steeper than the others had been. Henry raised an eyebrow and gestured towards them. “Ladies first?”

“Creepy,” Eliza surmised, heading up the steps. “The weird hall, I mean. You think anyone will look for us all the way up here?” She turned around in the tight space as Henry closed the door behind them. Balancing on the edge of the step, she leaned towards him, and reached under his arm to lock the door. 

“The house isn’t that big,” Henry said, caught between her and the door and giving her a look that was only mildly exasperated. But Eliza wasn’t stupid, and she was learning his signs -- the little crease between his eyebrows that meant he was focused (on her, not on anything else), and the way he bit at his lower lip, even if just for a second. Exasperation wasn’t the only thing on Henry Higgs’ mind.“We’ll be missed before too long.”

“I heard your mom say there was at least another hour before everyone else would even get here,” Eliza said helpfully, resting her hands on his shoulders. She slipped her fingers under the edge of his collar, unbuttoning the first button. “So maybe not too missed…”

“They’ll be trickling in and out all day…” Henry murmured, his hands finding a home on the curve of her waist. She could see the bob of his throat as he swallowed hard. “But you are definitely underestimating their ability to keep tabs on everyone and everything.”

“Why?” Eliza asked, loosening his tie with one hand. “Get caught with other girls up here before?” It was hard to picture a teenaged Henry bringing a girl up to his room for any adolescent shenanigans. If he had brought anyone up, Eliza could’ve only imagined it being for a science project, and definitely not because of any chemistry. “So what if we go missing for a little while?” 

“Nothing like that,” Henry said, with more reservation than Eliza was hoping for. She hadn’t been trying to hit a nerve, but sometimes it was easy to forget that Henry was a minefield of just those. But as luck would have it, he didn’t seem completely put off. On the contrary, he leaned in, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against hers so they were only a breath apart. “I swear, you send all of my attempts at maintaining good judgment straight out the window.”

“Not all of your attempts,” Eliza said, nuzzling his cheek. “I did just lock the door.” Which had to count for something, if you asked her. Getting noticed for going missing was one thing, but having his cousins walk in on them would have been another thing entirely, yikes. 

“Besides,” she added, “You have way too much good judgment for your own good.” Nothing that turning around in his grasp couldn’t fix, though. She grabbed his hand at her waist, and pulled him up the steps. While kissing him on the stairwell admittedly sounded like a good idea, kissing him on his old bed seemed like the better one to follow up on. 

Henry stumbled a bit up the first few stairs but managed to recoup his balance before anything too dramatic happened, which was fortunate, because Eliza wasn’t much in the mood for waiting around. “Are you sure you’re not trying to kill me?” he asked as they crested the top of the stairs.

Eliza shrugged as she scanned the room. The ceilings were mostly high, save for a few unfortunate corners, and the bed was covered with an all-too practical lumberjack style comforter. Plaid. Of course. At least the skylights (ha!) made for great lighting. She stepped over the suitcases stowed at the foot of the bed, and plopped down on the mattress. 

“I once had a French tutor who was totally a gross unwashed wannabe beatnik, and anyways, the answer is yes, absolutely, la petite mort, Henry.” She made a sweeping gesture and wiggled her hips in the hopes he’d take her hint. 

Henry, however, had gotten distracted, and he peered around the room with some curiosity. "This room is almost precisely how I remember it. It's surprising they haven't converted it to something more useful, like a study, or at least upgraded the furniture and bedding."

“It looks like your room, though,” Eliza noted with a sigh, capitulating to Henry’s need to reminisce. For the moment. “What’d you even get up to in here, hmm?” 

"Well, it was usually during the summer and winter breaks. So reading and sleeping, primarily," Henry replied, bending to peer at the bookshelf beneath one of the windows. "There used to be this enormous old TV in here too, rabbit ear antennas and all. Before you ask, yes, I'd stay up to watch Star Trek runs."

“So, no girls then?” Eliza teased, before she added, “Just you and that one hot borg lady? Seven of Nine, right?” If she was being honest, Eliza had spent more than a few friendshipless evenings watching TV alone while her mother worked and her sister went out and had fun. Bespeckled Eliza had definitely watched Voyager. And while she might’ve been naive about the world of the beautiful and glamourous then, Eliza had still recognized the intense, magnetic appeal of a great bod and spandex. 

“Sounds lonely,” she said pointedly, leaning back across the comforter as she propped herself up on her elbow. 

“It wasn’t too bad. You’ve watched them then?” Henry asked, giving her a surprised look. “That doesn’t strike me as typical Eliza Dooley fare.”

“Well I didn’t really have friends, Henry.” Eliza said, feeling a bit of defensiveness rise up in her. “And we had cable. So maybe a little bit!” Maybe several seasons, and definitely Voyager. Now that she thought about it, it was hardly surprising Henry was a nerd. But then, he’d never really come off as the nasty ones in school had -- the boys who’d questioned her knowledge of Starfleet because she was a girl. Maybe Henry had made friends that way, but she certainly hadn’t been able to. “Anyways, I watched stuff. It gave me something to do.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Henry said, tone turning reconciliatory. He sighed and crossed the room to come sit on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped promisingly under his weight. “Trust me, I fully believe that there are far worse ways to spend your time than following the exploits of Captain Janeway. Though admittedly, I did blow off far more social opportunities than I should have when I was young. You could say it’s an ongoing problem.”

“You mean you really didn’t bring girls up here to mess around in your nerdy bedroom?” Eliza asked. “Not even one…? Not even during college?”

Henry cleared his throat and picked at a loose thread in the quilt. “If I had ever tried such a thing and gotten caught by my parents, I doubt I’d be standing here today.”

Eliza gasped. “Wait. Does that mean you snuck around, Henry Higgs?” 

“I didn’t say that,” Henry protested. “I was a good kid, thank you. I was the good influence.”

“You didn’t not say it, Henry,” she pointed out, jabbing an accusatory finger his direction. “Absence of denial. You totes implied you snuck around!” 

“You’re jumping to conclusions,” Henry sniffed.

“Conclusions you wanted me to jump to,” Eliza said, deciding to change tactics and smoothing her palm over Henry’s shoulder. She always seemed to do best when he couldn’t predict her next move. “C’mon, just admit you’d like me to think you snuck some pretty girls up here. That you were cool…” 

He exhaled, reaching up and wrapping his fingers loosely about her wrist. His thumb pressed gently into the pulsepoint at the base of her palm. “Well, I brought you up here in front of everyone. Surely that counts for something?”

“Mmm, but you’re not a teenager, and that’s not sneaking around unless we do something sneaky to make it count,” she pressed. Eliza leaned forwards, smiling as Henry began to absently massage his thumb over her wrist in slow circles. When he was mid-rotation, she slipped her palm under his collar. “I mean, now your parents completely trust you, and we’re responsible adults…”

“Yes, we are being very responsible,” Henry murmured, wetting his lips as she shifted closer. Eliza got the delightful sneaking suspicion his entire extended family would definitely not trust him if they could see the way he was looking at her right this moment. “And I am very grateful to be well past my teenage years. It’s much more respectable these days.”

“Respectable enough to be trusted with a closed door, far out of earshot from the rest of your family…” He was starting to look a little frazzled. And that was what Eliza liked about Henry, if she was being truthful. There was something about his button downs and his bow ties that just begged to be rumpled.

“I would hate to betray their trust,” Henry mused, a little wryly. “Especially in a room they’ve probably got guests staying in.” That didn’t stop him from sliding his hand slowly up her arm, shifting in close enough that their noses brushed.

“Ignorance is bliss, Henry,” she said with a soft laugh as she tugged him towards her, flopping back onto the mattress. “I seem to recall leaving off somewhere this morning, except you were more -- here,” Eliza said, sliding her leg between his. 

Henry shifted, his arm catching his weight only a little awkwardly, just to the side of her shoulder. “I seem to remember we were a little more vertical at the time, actually,” he said, voice gone... syrupy, maybe. That was a good word for it. Smooth. “But I think I see the resemblance,” he murmured, before -- fucking finally -- he leaned in and kissed her.

Being pressed up against a hotel wall had been hot, but Eliza had to admit this was way easier. She slid her fingers into Henry’s hair as his weight settled against her, pressing her further against the bed. When she inhaled, the sweet scent of laundry detergent on the guest sheets and Henry’s smoky aftershave filled her sense. Eliza worked her other hand over his shirt, slipping buttons from their holes as she kissed him back fiercely. 

He shivered and kissed her deeper when her fingers grazed his collarbone, his tongue sliding against hers. Eliza hummed appreciatively; this was the sort of thing Mr. High Power Executive needed to divert that famous work drive into more often. It was gratifying to realize she’d finally, on some level, gotten that through to him. Even more gratifying was the warmth of his body above hers and the pressure of his free hand falling to her side, thumb pressing into her skin where her shirt had ridden up.

Eliza rolled her hips, pulling Henry closer as she tightened her grip on his shoulder. She slid her foot up the back of his calf, practically purring as she wrapped herself around him. For once she had Henry where she wanted him, and he wasn’t distracted. Eliza pressed a kiss to the corner of Henry’s mouth, before biting his bottom lip. He exhaled shudderingly, his palm dropping further from her hip to her thigh, much like it had that morning, drawing her leg further up and around him. She shivered and then arched her back.

“Jesus,” Henry groaned, rocking against her hard and sudden, all flush against her. It was so much better this way than it’d been against the wall. In no small part, Eliza mused, because Henry didn’t seem as concerned about keeping his balance. The thought was fleeting and Eliza gasped as Henry moved again, increasing the pressure of his grip on her thigh. She twisted, moving her hands between them to quickly tug at his belt, pulling Henry closer in the process. Henry might have been maddeningly sexy when he wanted to be, but his pressed linen pants were more in the way than anything else. 

“God,” Eliza panted. “Your clothes suck right now.” 

“Uh huh,” Henry agreed, completely inattentively, much more preoccupied with shifting his attentions to the delicate skin behind her ear. His lips and tongue were soft, too soft to be honest – especially absent that morning stubble he’d sported that morning, god, that’d been sexy, okay – and Eliza bit her lip with frustration even as she continued to yank at his belt. Henry finally shifted in response, allowing her enough leverage to free the buckle from its catch, but his teeth at her earlobe sent her thoughts scattering and her stomach clenching into knots. Eliza moaned softly and Henry chuckled, and Eliza thought he was about to say something, when the the sound of distant laughter echoed from downstairs. Henry froze.

“Did you hear that?”

Eliza huffed in annoyance. “People not in this room?” she asked, probably sounding as annoyed as she felt. She was failing to see why this warranted her attention when she could feel her pulse throbbing under her skin and Henry’s erection pressed urgently against her inner thigh. “Where are you going with this…?” 

He gave her what could only be quantified as an incredibly stupid look. “Eliza, we may be missed before long…”

Eliza bit back a groan that was decidedly unsatisfied. He was serious. She knew it, without even having to ask, because of course Henry was serious. Seriously disturbed. 

She made a frustrated sound that maybe came out a little whiny. “I kind of don’t care, Henry…” 

Henry exhaled and shifted his weight, just enough that Eliza gasped and couldn't resist the urge to press her hips back up against his pointedly. He choked back a groan, visibly straining to hold himself still. "You're never going to forgive me if I actually do the sensible thing right now, are you?"

“I really think you’re mistaking what the sensible option is right now,” Eliza breathed. She moved to nip at his jaw. “Because sensible seems relative, if you ask me.” Sensible was so….unnecessary. Henry’s family had a million other things to care about over sending someone to come find them. “Plus, if you think I’m going to go down there right now to giggle at your parents, you are totally mistaken.” 

"I mean, I was going to allot some time for us to cool down but... I see now that that may not be the likeliest of avenues to pursue." He licked his lips and looked down at her, taking way too long to make up his goddamn mind, and then -- "Okay."

The relief that flooded Eliza could barely be contained. She grinned, nuzzling into Henry’s neck. “Thank god,” she said, digging her nails into his back. “I really need this right now.” 

"Okay," he repeated, sounding a fraction less sure of himself now. She could practically hear the gears in his head spinning on overdrive, even as she pressed open mouthed kisses to his throat, and frankly, Eliza really wished he’d quit thinking and just act. Henry slow turned his head, pressing a lingering kiss to her temple, and then tilted his head toward her ear. "What do you want?"

“For you to get rid of this,” Eliza said, tugging Henry’s slacks past his hips. “And stop thinking so much,” she added, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “You feel good. I just want-- I just want to get somewhere.” 

He kissed her ear, far too gently to be satisfying, and then again -- with teeth, and, well, that was satisfying. "Maybe we can compromise, because I hate to inform you, but we should still be discreet." Eliza groaned again, more with irritation than anything else, but it caught in her throat when Henry's hand purposefully slid to the inside of her thigh, thumb drawing a line over the dip of her hip. She inhaled sharply. "I'll take that as agreement?"

With an annoyed noise, Eliza nodded, before tilting her head back onto the pillow. “Henry, you had better have a really good idea right now about discreet,” she said as she dug her nails into his shoulder. 

"You tell me," Henry said, his voice grown distinctly more raw. But he also seemed to have a certain newfound direction and his hand shifted to the button at the waist of her jeans. It took only a moment of fiddling to loosen it, and then the zipper after. He traced the line of her underwear, fingers brushing over the soft skin below her belly. "Right direction?""

“God yes,” Eliza said, shimmying so that Henry could pull her jeans past her hips. With the waistband of her jeans pushed out of the way, Eliza sighed in relief. She began to kiss a haphazard pattern up the length of his jawline. “Little more--” 

"Uh huh," he muttered, and -- christ, finally -- slipped his fingers under the thin fabric of her underwear. Eliza canted her hips instinctively into his touch, pressing her mouth more urgently into the crook of his jaw. When his fingers found the slick spot between her legs, she couldn't help but moan softly, and thank god that Henry Higgs wasn't as much of a stick in the mud as he pretended to be. She stifled her next moan against his shoulder, biting down when he began to rub her clit firmly. The gasp she elicited from Henry nearly canceled out her own attempts to keep quiet, but she carried on, kissing his collarbone and trying to keep herself from giving away the game. 

Eliza began to drag her hands down Henry’s lower back where his shirt had started riding up, nails skating across flesh. “Henry,” she said, flexing underneath him, “You ever -- ah -- gone for a g-spot? Because that would really, mmm, help.” 

"Yeah," Henry replied shortly, short of breath. "Got it." His wrist twisted, fingers stroking gently downward before he sunk two into her cunt, turning his thumb back to her clit. The combined sensation made her groan, a long-winded, needy sound that would have lasted longer if Henry hadn't cut her off, kissing her firmly. Eliza's nails bit into his back as he sucked at her lower lip and curled his fingers, finding a rhythm. 

Later, Eliza would have to find some way commemorate the way the muscles in Henry’s back went tense with effort. Beneath her fingers he felt strong and solid, his skin deliciously warm to the touch. Eliza found herself eagerly twisting her hips to meet his moving fingers, the muscles in her legs starting to tingle. Henry had the common sense to pick up his pace, steady and unrelenting as she began to tremble. 

"I swear," Henry muttered between kisses, pausing to bite at her lip. His thumb turned to circle in the opposite direction. Her thighs clenched. "You planned this."

“I--” Eliza breathed, pleasure rolling up her body, “--don’t think I did. Should have, though,” she said, with a raw laugh that melted into another moan as Henry’s added a third finger to his ministrations. Eliza felt the heat in her body climb, each smooth stroke causing her breath to hitch as she tried desperately not to rouse suspicion from anyone downstairs. But god, was it hard not to lean into his ear and let him hear the desire in her voice. “Henry,” she said, “Please, I need--” 

He turned his face into her neck, muffling his groan in her hair. "I need you to hurry up," he gasped, his breath warm and humid against her ear. He pulled his fingers from her, drawing them up to rub firmly against her clit again for two, three beats, and then sliding them back into her. She made a harsh, desperate sound, hips rocking hard into his palm. His fingers felt hot and so, so good. "Come on, Eliza."

Rather than cry out, Eliza muffled herself on Henry’s shoulder as she came, trembling against his hand. Henry had the good sense not to stop and Eliza shuddered as her orgasm pulled at her. Her skin tingled, warmth washing over her like honey. Just as Eliza had thought she’d reached the peak of her orgasm, Henry’s hands pulled another wave of pleasure from her that elicited a final, satisfied moan against his shoulder. She sighed, body going slack as she melted into him, his body still pressing her into the mattress. 

Eliza blinked, breathing in shakily to rid herself of the blurring in her vision and suddenly overly sensitive to Henry’s fingers still between her legs. Eliza whimpered. 

“Mercy,” she said. “I have to be able to walk downstairs.” 

"Right, um." Henry withdrew his hand gently, though the movement was still enough to make her shiver again, retreating to the somewhat more neutral region of her hip. He shifted his weight and lifted his head to look at her properly, and Eliza was gratified to see that he looked completely wrecked in a way that she'd only ever imagined getting to see him, hair mussed, cheeks flushed, and trying desperately to hold onto the vestiges of his dignity when he was so obviously hella turned on. "I take it you're feeling... more together now?" he managed.

If 'together' was supposed to mean 'sexually satisfied' then, well, that did make one of them.

“Mmm, better,” Eliza purred, deliberately tracing a fingernail just over the waistband of his underwear. “But what about you, hmm?” 

His brows furrowed and his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "I think that goes without saying, Eliza. Just... allow me a minute. Or three."

Eliza wriggled, leaning up to kiss Henry’s jaw. “Give me four?” she said coyly, reaching for the band of his boxer-briefs. 

Henry's exhale came out in a hiss that escaped through clenched teeth. He wet his lips and visibly seemed to struggle for words for a moment before finally settling on: "Yes. Please." 

In response, Eliza titled herself upward, pushing Henry back onto the mattress. It bounced as he fell back beside her. She pulled her jeans up as she moved, underwear sliding back up sticky thighs. Not wanting to waste time, Eliza straddled Henry’s leg and leaned in, pressing tightly up against his chest as she kissed the hollow of his throat. 

Henry drew his hands up her back, pressing his head back against the quilt and shifting restlessly beneath her. Eliza bit back a smirk -- he was hot, but she could make things hotter. She nipped at his ear, purring as she rolled back the cotton of his underwear and began to make quick work of his erection. Normally, Eliza prided herself on technique, her game -- but time was of the essence and Henry was already practically trembling in her hands. 

“If you’re good now,” Eliza whispered, twisting her hand upwards, “I can make this better later.” 

Henry chuckled breathlessly even as he knotted his fists in the loose fabric of her blouse. His hips jerked when she smoothed her hand back down to the base of his cock. "Define-- hmm, good?"

“God, Henry,” Eliza said, kissing his cheek, “When was the last time you let go?” Eliza shifted, moving so that she could watch Henry’s expression. Eliza brushed his bangs back from his face, amused. “I just want to watch your face when you get off.” 

"Yeah?" The way he was looking at her gave her pause. He was flushed, his throat bobbing as he visibly swallowed, but it was the way his eyes fixed on her, half-lidded and pupils blown wide, that made something in Eliza's chest twist. He always did that, looked at her and made her feel like she was everything, like no one ever had before, and it was completely unfair. This was just supposed to be fun, casual -- a favor -- but seeing Henry Higgs like this felt anything but. There was no getting this out of her system. He groaned again, low in his throat, interrupting her thoughts. "You're not-- going to need wait long."

“Good,” she said softly, reminding herself to focus. Eliza fisted her free hand into Henry’s hair and kissed him roughly. She nipped at his bottom lip, before she pulled away, quietly watching to see if Henry would let her in. If Henry could unravel, let his guard slip. She wanted that, even if it was just for a couple minutes.

He surprised her, lifting a hand to the nape of her neck and leaning up to kiss her back. It was a sloppy, needy kiss, his fingers twisting in her hair -- nothing like the careful, attentive ones Eliza had come to expect from him. Henry moaned into her mouth, then broke away to gasp when she twisted her wrist again, his hips jerking beneath her touch. 

"Fuck, I--"

The rest of his words were lost -- Eliza cut off his moan with another urgent kiss. Eliza shifted on her knees and, realizing quickly that she had nothing to clean up any mess with, adjusted her hand accordingly. For a brief moment Eliza was surprised by his intensity, the consuming need of Henry’s kiss and the way he slung his other arm over her waist as he slipped into bliss. When he finished, Eliza kissed his cheek, not wanting to break the moment too quickly. Beneath her, she could feel his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. 

"Sorry, I... might need a moment," he said, slowly disentangling his fingers from her hair in order to rub a hand down his face. He exhaled, a shudder she could feel running through him. "Good god, how are we going to go downstairs without anyone knowing?"

Eliza fought not to snicker, but failed. “Start with handing me a tissue from your pocket. Or a pocket square -- something.” Henry was totally the type to have a handkerchief somewhere, she was sure of it. “I think I have a comb in my bag. Some lipgloss and a little perfume, and I might get away with it,” she commented, nuzzling his neck. 

"I should have one in my pocket, hold on." He bent a bit sideways, trying to reach the pocket of his trousers, but then paused. "Or wait, I saw a box on the nightstand. The disposable kind." Eliza didn't refrain from rolling her eyes, but pushed herself up and spotted the kleenex box right where he'd said it would be. She stretched to grab a few, but Henry's hand on her wrist stopped her as she returned to her former position. He looked embarrassed. "I've got it."

“Henry,” Eliza said, trying to sound polite. He was always so concerned about decorum, that sometimes she was at a loss for what was the right thing to say. “I’m not complaining, but you know, my hand too…” She delicately twisted her right hand, fist closed. “And like, come on. It’s hardly the most heinous thing I’ve ever had to do,” she said, thinking of other, less pleasant encounters. But then, maybe… 

Eliza paused. For Henry, these details were probably intimate. For Eliza, they were simply a necessity. Already, he was sliding back the distances between this and that, and she felt the loss like a hole in her stomach. But if he felt uncomfortable by it, then fine. She pouted and let it go. “Just hand me one too?” 

"Oh. Right." Henry at least had the presence of mind to look abashed as he divvied up the tissues between them. Eliza swallowed back a sigh as she rolled off of him to sit on the mattress and tried to rally her good mood back forth from the dark corners it'd started to recede to. Hell, she told herself, Henry could pretend to be as stuffy as he liked. She knew now she'd been right about how great cutting loose would be for him all along. 

Henry sat up, sheepishly tidying up and then tugging his pants back up to his waist. He glanced over at her as he set his belt to rights. "Eliza, that was..."

“A totes excellent follow up to this morning,” she filled in before he could say something dumb, drying her hands before she dug into her purse and pulled out a small hand lotion. Not quite a sanitizer, but it would do until she made it to a bathroom. “Don’t you think?”

"I… Well. Certainly satisfactory," Henry supplied, running a hand through his hair.

“Satisfactory?” Eliza echoed in disbelief. She refrained from chucking her lotion at his head. Instead, she simply tossed it on the bed next to him so that she could search for gloss. Sure, this hadn’t exactly been the hand job of the year, or anything, but Eliza read more than just Cosmo. She knew what she was doing. “I was pressed for time,” she sniffed in defense. 

"What?" Henry said, picking up the bottle of lotion distractedly. "Eliza, I didn't mean that as an insult. I was... it was glib."

“Whatevs,” she said, slicking on her coral pink gloss she’d been wearing earlier. “It’s fine. Be glib.” 

Henry sighed and reached for her shoulder. It weighed through the thin material of her shirt like a brand for a brief second before he let it fall back to the bed between them. "It was... I had fun, Eliza. I'm not trying to be dismissive, and -- god, you look like nothing's happened at all."

At that, Eliza smiled to herself. “Yeah, and you still look like a mess,” she pointed out, as she straightened her blouse. “God, don’t let anyone look at your face like that, they’ll know.” He may have tried to play things cool, but Henry was so obvious. She suspected because he’d never had to pretend he felt one way when he really felt another. Eliza had certainly perfected that trick over the years. “Brush your hair, and just don’t...I don’t know...look like you got off.” 

"I'll do my best," Henry muttered, more archly than strictly necessary. He pushed up from the bed, smoothing his hands down the front of his shirt as he made his way to the mirror over the dresser. She could see the shock that registered on his face, hands leaping to the complete mess she'd made of his hair. "Jesus, Eliza, I looked -- debauched."

“That’s only because you normally look like an overgrown choir boy,” Eliza said helpfully. She rolled her shoulders and then stood up, reaching for the shoes she’d kicked off earlier. “A priest, I guess. You look like a priest. Maybe your family will let it slide?” 

Henry paused amidst trying to make his hair stick in some semblance of order. "...My failure to pursue a more religious calling, or the fact we stopped helping with the cooking for a quickie?"

“The second one,” Eliza said definitively. “I mean they’ll totally forgive me, but you…” She bit her lip, then thought better of laughing. “Stop worrying, Henry. Honestly, it’s not that bad. Here--” she moved towards him, swatting away his hands so that she could brush his hair properly with her pocket comb. “Just don’t take your shirt off, and no one will notice.”

He snorted softly and, ever overcautious, did up another button and adjusted his collar with only minor fidgeting. He tilted his head slightly under her fussing. "Duly noted. Am I presentable?"

“I can’t make you too presentable, then they’ll definitely know something is up,” Eliza countered, brushing invisible lint from his shoulder one last time before she withdrew her hand. “I’m going downstairs. If you can’t keep your face in check, that’s totally on you.” 

"I'll keep that in mind," Henry said, giving her a small smile. Exactly the kind of expression she was warning him about too. "I'm going to tidy up the bed real quick. I'll follow you down in a minute?"

“Sure, see you there,” Eliza said, giving him a last once over before she nodded and slipped out the door and back down the stairs, the very picture of innocence.

\---

It took Henry several minutes after she left to fully recover anything resembling normal brain function. Once he did, two things quickly became very clear.

First of all, Eliza Dooley was incredible. Second of all, he was an enormous asshole.

“I need to tell her,” Henry said to himself as he fixed the pillows they’d knocked askew in the midst of their… intimacies. He smoothed the covers for the third time and took a step back, surveying the room for any other signs they might’ve left behind. Most of their movements had been confined to the bed, so there wasn’t much to worry about, but he still felt marginally paranoid, especially given Eliza’s final comments on the nature of his facial expressions.

Then again, there was a lot he felt rather paranoid about. That was his ongoing problem. But it was much harder to feel afraid know that Henry had some inkling of how great being with Eliza could be. Not just sexually, though that was plenty encouraging. Spending time with her as a couple, introducing her to his family, and so forth… all of that had gone incredibly well. 

Henry wanted that permanently.

“This weekend,” he decided, his voice echoing in the empty room. It felt foolish, but saying it aloud helped solidify the decision. “I’m going to tell her this weekend.” Henry nodded, letting the idea settle. He’d find a quiet moment to tell her, when they were away from the hustle and bustle of the Higgs family, so it couldn’t be misinterpreted as an act. That was important.

There were things in both of their lives that shouldn’t be just for show.

Henry gave the pillows one final tweak and then edged around the bed, only to trip over the luggage at the foot, only barely avoiding a faceplant by catching himself on the dresser. He swore, kicking the bag back toward the bed. Curiosity got the better of him after the moment, and he leaned down to see just whose bag had made an attempt on his life. Henry found the luggage tag and turned it to read the label.

“Oh hell.”

James. James was sleeping in this room. Probably with his fiancee. He and Eliza had fooled around on the bed they would be sleeping on.

Henry wasn’t sure whether to feel disgusted or laugh hysterically. However, he was incredibly certain Eliza would definitely do the latter. He grinned and added that immediately to the list of things he needed to tell her.

In the best mood he’d been in all week, Henry brushed his hands off, slipped them into his pockets and started to head downstairs, indulging the urge he suddenly had to whistle a jaunty tune. He knew that it was hardly inconspicuous, but it was hard not to feel just slightly more devil-may-care about the weekend. It was almost - no, it was - funny that James was sleeping in his old room. It felt in some small way, like a taste of karmic revenge for his brother and fiancee. And best of all, it had been completely unintentional, leaving Henry’s conscience (mostly) clear. 

Those pleasant thoughts carried him all the way downstairs, back to the clatter and chatter coming from the kitchen, as well as the sound of the doorbell. 

“I’ll get it,” he called, staving off the inevitable argument as to whose turn it was, and headed for the front door, opening it with a jovial, “Hello!”

And, well, speak of the devil.

“Hello again, Henry,” James said, edging through the door as Henry took a step back. His fiancee followed close behind. She was a slim Korean woman of medium height, with wavy black hair and the fashion sense of a young starlet. “You remember Claire.”

“Hi,” Henry said, forcing a smile. “Welcome back.”

It seemed the weekend’s festivities were about to begin in earnest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been a while. Oops. Still, we hope you enjoyed and look forward to hearing what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments voraciously read and appreciated by both of us! Thanks for reading.


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